The Final Hunger Games
by FictionSoror
Summary: My name is Rosalynn Snow, adopted granddaughter of the late Coriolanus Snow. Although I am certainly glad the rebels have taken over (they seem to be good leaders), there is one thing I can't say I enjoy: the 76th Hunger Games. I doubt I'll live another year, but I still have to see how long I can survive as the last of Snow's line. That is, if I can sort through my emotions.
1. Part 1 The Games: Chapter 1

I stared up at the ceiling from where I laid flat my bed. Today my grandfather, President Snow who lost the war to the rebels, was going to die. Not that I really cared for him; he was cruel to many people. The most he ever did for me (other than let me live in the Capitol Building without any restrictions) was give me roses and other smaller things on my birthday. They lasted for over a year, but I often threw them out before then when I tired of the smell.

There would be no roses for me this year.

I considered how bare my dresser would look without them. But still, I would find other flowers I preferred, and I had my mandolin, which was the most beautiful and treasured gift my grandfather had ever given me. I never told him how the smell of roses gave me headaches after a few months so the roses kept coming. He loved roses, engineered them to last years. He even named her after them; Rosalynn. Rosalynn Delaine Snow.

I stood and stretched. I wondered if I should go watch his execution. Would he even notice me? It wasn't like we were biologically related; he adopted me sometime after my seventh birthday, and I was days away from turning fourteen. I was taken because of my uncanny ability to pick out the Hunger Games champions. I don't remember anything of my life beforehand since they had slipped me some memory drug so I wouldn't run back to my family.

My life is simple; my only responsibility was to predict the champion of the Hunger Games. I can only think of two instances when I was wrong about the victor. There was one when a girl from District 4 won because she could swim when the Gamemakers flooded the arena. The other was the third Quarter Quell, but that Hunger Games didn't end so it didn't really count.

I have mixed feelings about the Hunger Games. I hate the outright murder and its celebration in the Capitol but I do enjoy how much attention I got from it. It was also a time to meet new people. I sometimes dressed as an Avox (a criminal with their tongues cut out and forced to serve those in the Capitol Building) to get a feel for the different tributes. Just about always I ended up ruling them out.

But there would be no more Hunger Games. Katniss Everdeen sparked rebellion in the districts when she refused to kill Peeta, the other District 12 tribute who had a thing for her, and instead forced President Snow to accept two victors. There was a big rebellion and many people died on both sides. I had been locked in my room with a device that would give me food when I asked for it. The only information I got of the war was from the television, with played Capitol propaganda and occasionally some rebel segment when they infiltrated the Capitol's system. Unfortunately, my room wasn't too far from where they tortured the prisoners. There were days when I could still hear their screams.

I walked out into the hallway running my fingers through my hair. It had once been strawberry blonde when I was very little but had darkened over time. Now I don't know what color to call it. I imagine I would be considered pretty by some standards, with my almond-brown eyes and flowing hair. Unfortunately, these were the only visual appearances going for me. Snow would probably say otherwise, but I'm pretty sure that's what grandfathers are supposed to say.

Perhaps I'll run to the nearest District and see how they're reacting to the victory of the rebels. I often ran to the different districts to watch them. Run. Hide. Observe. Return. That was my life. I was weighing my options when I saw Katniss walk past the hallway. Where was she going? The execution wasn't for a few more minutes. I recognized the path she was taking, and knew a secret passageway to the room she would be using. I might as well know what the Mockingjay was doing; it wasn't like I was going to run off to my grandfather and tell him.

Keeping a good distance, I followed Katniss. I had cried when Katniss took the place of her sister in her first Hunger Games, two – three years ago? I had vouched for Katniss immediately to President Snow. And now, well, now I pitied her. She lost so much and still got up every morning.

In the hallway of the room Katniss was going towards was a little unobserved broom closet. I slipped into it. I maneuvered my way to the back wall and felt around for the handle disguised as a coat hanger. Ah, there it was. I pulled and a dusty tunnel was revealed. Once upon a time, Avoxes used this to take care of the building unseen. Then the Capitol put them on display as a warning to others. I didn't know what would be done with them under the rebel's rule. No matter, I was glad it was still there.

Not two feet into the tunnel I met a fork in the road; five tunnels branched off of this one. I took the furthest to the right. Down a flight of stairs, left tunnel, up a flight of stairs, find the peepholes of light. With my eyes adjusted to the dark the specks of light a yard or so away seemed incredibly bright. I reached the hidden door and knelt on the ground. At the bottom of the hidden door was a grate, perfect for listening in on conversations.

President Coin was talking about the districts. Apparently they were screeching for Capitol citizen's blood. _For my blood,_ I thought with a shudder. Instead of complete annulation, they planned to hold another Hunger Games with Capitol children, at least that's how I understood it, and Coin was letting the remaining victors vote on it. There were some shouts of no, other shouts of yes. One woman mentioned President Snow's granddaughter. Did nobody realize he had a granddaughter without any children? The votes were cast, and one more Hunger Games was agreed upon.

I bit my tongue to prevent screaming and ran back the way I came. All the terrors I had studied, all the brutality I had examined, all of it was going to happen to me. (Of course, I understood why they decided to let twenty-three children of the fallen Capitol leaders die; it was the best way to appease the public.) There was no escape from the arena for me, all of President Snow's line needed to die with him. I burst out of the closet and ran directly into one of the victors.

"They'll kill me! They'll kill me!" I screamed. "I grew up in the Capitol so they'll kill me!"

"No they won't," whoever it was said. "They're taking the children of those who held power before the rebels took over and putting them in their own Hunger Games."

I fainted.

 **Author's Note: Hello, and thank you for reading the first chapter of my new story! I wrote this awhile ago and I know it is far from the best thing I've ever written (which is far from the best thing on this site), but I hope the story intrigues you enough to enjoy the story despite its issues.**

 **Please leave a review! I would love any kind of feedback you could provide!**


	2. Part 1 The Games: Chapter 2

"Why won't you let them run the tests, Rosalynn?" President Snow asked me. The second I saw we were both in my room I knew it was a dream. But this dream seemed much better than my reality so I didn't interrupt. "If they find it's in your DNA they could make a whole army of Hunger Games victor-predicting people!"

"It's not in my DNA." I answered. "I can just tell by watching them."

"What kind of things do you look for?" He demanded.

I smiled. "Why would I tell you? I'd be firing myself."

He couldn't argue. He had always taught me a smart response was better than a truthful response. He refused to try to fight his own teaching. Of everything he was (a liar, a murderer, greedy, selfish, the list could go on) a hypocrite was not one of them. "I see coming here was fruitless. Until next time, Rosa."

"And if not then, see you on my birthday, Pappy." I replied, using the name he told me years ago I should use for him. He reached down to kiss me on the cheek. I held my breath as his lips touched my face. His breath was full of blood for reasons I wouldn't share with a soul. 'Pappy' had no idea what all I knew about him and I would never tell him. I was his reminder he _could_ stop being so cruel.

Unfortunately he never made that choice.

When I opened my eyes I saw a group of people huddled around me. "Leave me alone. I told Snow I wouldn't cooperate with any tests." I rolled so my face snuggled closer to my pillow.

"You are connected to a device that will tell us if you're telling the truth, so don't try to lie to us." A rough (but relatively young) voice said.

"Huah?" I shuffled into a sitting-up position. Something told me I wasn't going to be allowed to fall asleep.

"What is your full name?"

I rubbed my eyes with the back of my wrist. "Rosalynn Delaine Snow, why?" My eyes opened when I finally understood; they were rebels trying to find out who I was. "Oh poop."

"Are you Coriolanus Snow's granddaughter?"

"How about you tell me your names so I'm not being interrogated by complete strangers?" I suggested. "Then I promise I won't dare lie."

The young man who had asked me all the questions held an arrow up to my chest. "Answer the question."

"You can't shoot me; you need me for the 76th Hunger Games."

"How did you know about the last Hunger Games?"

I smiled. It was an annoying smile that said 'I'll tell you if you tell me'.

"Fine!" The man exclaimed. "I'm Gale Hawthorne. That's Beetee Latier." Gale gestured to the man working a machine I guess was the truth-telling device. He pointed to the only female in the room. Her hair had been shaved off and was slowly growing back. The voice of one of the war prisoners echoed in my mind. _"What are you doing? My hair!"_ I dug my nails into my palms to keep myself from shaking in front of everyone. "She's –"

"I'm Johanna Mason." The girl said for him. Her voice was a calmer version of the one in my memory. "And he's Peeta Mellark." She nodded her head at the blonde boy in the back.

"Johanna was the only person who seemed to recognize you in the entire Capitol building, not counting the Avoxes." Beetee said. "And you ran into Peeta before you fainted."

"Back to my question. Are you Snow's granddaughter?"

"Yes."

"Who are your parents?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "I was taken to the Capitol when I was seven years old because I could accurately predict who would win the Hunger Games. My memories were erased so I wouldn't remember my life before the Capitol, except for the Hunger Games. They wanted me to remember how I did it."

"She's not lying, Gale." Beetee leaned over the machine.

"Did you have any part in stopping the rebellion?" Gale continued.

"Other than eating the Capitol's food, no."

"Still telling the truth." Beetee said. "If you don't mind, Rosalynn, how do you predict the victors?"

"Different ways. I watch them. I disguise myself as an Avox to meet some of the tributes. I only met one champion."

"Which one?"

I raked my mind. "Johanna." I saw her eyebrows rise. Her mind was probably racing with memories of me making her bed and lingering to make sure she got her clothes.

"Who did you serve during my Hunger Games?" Peeta spoke for the first time.

I considered him. "I believe during your first Hunger Games I served the District 4 girl, the one that died eating your berries. Then for your second Hunger Games I assigned myself to Wiress."

Beetee stood up. "This girl's only been telling the truth. I say we're done here."

I sat up straighter. "Great, when's my reaping?"

"We're not having a reaping. We're just going down the power scale and taking the children until we have twelve boys and twelve girls." Gale explained.

"Any chance the spots will be full by the time you get to me?" I asked with mock innocence. If Gale was amused, he hid it well. But at least Beetee snorted.

The rebels wasted no time in the last Hunger Games. In a matter of days all twenty-four Capitol children were chosen for the Games. Today they stood in front of the four possible mentors: Beetee, Enobaria, Johanna, and Annie. They were the only victors left; all others were either dead or were considered mentally unstable (all the District 12 victors, but strangely enough not Annie). They would choose three boys and three girls to mentor of the children currently standing on the stage. The mentors sat in comfortable chairs on the floor facing the stage. Cameramen where everywhere, broadcasting who would be taught by who to each of the thirteen districts. It was going to be treated like a reaping, but people could not watch it if they chose not to. I think I heard about a million televisions were currently watching this.

I was first in line to be chosen and trained by one of the victors. I wondered if my relation to Snow and interaction with some of the victors would be an advantage or disadvantage for me. "Rosalynn Snow, fourteen-year-old granddaughter of Coriolanus Snow, former president of Panem." A Capitol rebel man announced. "Mentors, raise your hand if you wish to mentor her."

Four hands went up. I blinked in surprise, but could understand my appeal to everyone. Beetee wanted me because I'm smart, Enobaria wanted me because of my relation with President Snow, Johanna wanted me because I had served her before, and Annie wanted me because I was the least touched by the Capitol (all the other kids had obscure make-up and insane outfits when they were taken).

"Rosalynn, you may choose who will be your mentor of the people raising their hands." The voice said.

I started to look at each person's face, but immediately made my decision when I saw the determined look in Johanna's eyes (as if she may kill if she didn't get her way). "Johanna. I choose Johanna."


	3. Part 1 The Games: Chapter 3

Johanna's group could have been worse. I didn't pay attention to their names; no use getting emotionally attached to the people who may kill me. But at least they all seemed like decent people. They didn't seem to hate me, anyway. We were permitted to go into another room to discuss how this was going to work.

"I'm going to split you into pairs. These pairs will ride a chariot together, have the same stylist, and share a floor." She explained. I could have figured all this. The Games are meant for twelve groups of two, and they had to share stylists because of the few surviving the revolution. "First girl I chose and first boy I chose, you're together. The second girl and second boy I chose are together. The last two I chose are a pair. Meet with your person and I'll be letting you know what floor you'll be on and there you'll meet your stylist."

I didn't have to go to the guy I was paired with, he came straight to me. I guess it was the advantage of having the most powerful relative in Panem before the revolution. "Hi!" His voice was very enthusiastic as he stuck out his hand. He was about my age, maybe a year or so older. He had short black and wavy hair, pebble-grey eyes, and skin that had never seen the sun. "My name is –"

"You can drop the act." I interrupted him. I noticed his smile didn't have the proper crinkle in his eyes it ought to, if he meant what he was saying.

"Oh, good. I think my cheeks have cramps from smiling like a ninny at everyone all day." He rubbed his cheeks. "That's what they expect, don't they? Anyway, my name is Morton Bodeneth."

I reached for his hand. "Rosalynn Snow." We shook hands.

Johanna called out to her team. "Once I call your names you may go find your stylist. Group One, you'll be staying on the fourth floor. I'll also be sleeping there. Group Two –"

Morton and I left once we got our floor number. Usually the tributes met their stylists at the Remake Center, but I suppose it's been destroyed. Either that or they want to keep the tributes in one area. We got in the elevator and Morton pushed the button for the fourth floor. As it began moving I spoke for the first time since introducing myself. "Can we make an agreement?" I asked. "Can we agree to be completely honest with each other? I need to talk to _some_ one who's in my position about my thoughts or I'm going to burst."

Morton paused a moment. I realized how blunt my request was, but I didn't dare take it back. To be able to talk and to be spoken to freely would make training for the deadly arena almost bearable. He nodded as the elevator doors opened and we stepped off. I was about to go to our rooms when he grabbed my shoulder. "I will agree, if we also promise not to kill each other in the arena."

I might have laughed if I wasn't so worn out from processing my fate. "That won't be too hard. I'm not planning on leaving the Games alive. And if I'm not going to survive, no use in killing anyone."

Morton frowned. "Why are you so sure you'll die?"

"I'm Rosalynn, Snow's granddaughter. If the other tributes aren't already fighting to spill my blood then the Gamemakers will make sure to send certain death." I sighed. "Any relative of Snow can't be a victor. They just can't. End of subject." I slipped under his grip and went to find my room.

In the hallway were two Avoxes, one boy (for Morton) and one girl (for me). My face lit up at the sight of them; I nearly forgot I would be meeting Avoxes again. "Oh my – hello! It's so good to see you alive and – healthy!" I realized how pink and rounded out they were, no longer underfed servants hiding their condition under complimentary white clothes. "I assume the rebels are treating you well."

"Ye-es. Ve-ery well." My mouth gaped at the sound. It sounded rather robotic, but it came from the female Avox.

"You can talk!" I managed to get out.

She nodded and opened her mouth just enough for me to see a little metal box where her tongue should be. "Beetee ga-ave us these to – to try the-em out on the – the tributes."

"We-e will lead you to yo-our stylist in a minute." The male Avox said. "Fi-irst we wi-ill lead you to your ro-oms to get you rea-ady for him." He led Morton one way while my Avox lead me in the opposite direction. Like the Remake Center, it seems as though most of the stylists and prep teams have died in the rebellion.

As I was finishing up in the shower there was a knock on my door. "Come in!" Once I heard the door swing open I shouted again. "Who is it?"

"Ju-ust me." I barely heard the Avox's created voice over my shower water.

"Do you need anything?" I asked as I scrubbed the last suds out of my hair.

"No-o. I'm pi-icking up your clothes to wash. Your sty-list is outside yo-our room when you're done." The door closed again as I shut the shower water off. I stepped onto the mat outside the bathtub. Without my clothes what was I going to wear? My eyes found a robe hanging in the cupboard. I slipped it on and walk into the main room of my apartment (I guess you could call it that).

I saw the back of a tall man and the front of a naked Morton. "Dyaa!" I fled back into my bathroom. I am never going to get the image of Morton nude out of my head. "Let me know when you're decent!" I screamed through the walls.

A different voice called out to me. "Rosalynn, you can come out. I just wanted to see what body I was working with Morton here." I put my hand on the handle. "He's got a robe now." I turned the handle and walked back into the room. I have no idea what to expect from this stylist.


	4. Part 1 The Games: Chapter 4

This time, Morton sat on the couch wrapped up in a white robe. I look at my stylist; not exactly sure I wanted him observing my body.

"Rosalynn, my name is Stio. I am yours and Morton's stylist. You are going to be the one to design your outfit, of course. But I'm here to create it." He shook my hand. "Can you please take your robe off so I can see how best to do this?"

I nodded reluctantly and pointed at Morton. "You. Bathroom. Now." He didn't need to be told twice (thankfully).

As soon as my robe came off, I suddenly became self-conscious. I liked my cupcakes and it showed on my body. Not that I was fat, I just had a visible stomach and tree-trunk legs, not to mention my blubber butt. I closed my eyes, hoping he wasn't staring at my breasts, which were about the size of my stomach. "Hmm," he says. "Not in the best physical shape, but I do see quite a bit of muscle. I can use it. Thank you, Rosalynn. You can put your robe back on."

In a minute Morton and I were in our robes sitting on the couch facing Stio. "What you wear in the chariot ride will show anyone who may support you your personality. These people want you dead, so your best chance of survival is proving you are not who they think you are. Show them this is no less barbaric than when their children were in the Hunger Games. Any ideas?"

I looked at Morton and he looked at me. "Roses and blood are my grandfather's things. Oh, and I love playing the mandolin." Stio scribbled down notes.

"My mother was one of President Snow's advisers." Morton said. "She often came up with the plans Snow used to destroy his enemies. It took me years to realize the horror of it all. I don't really have anything you can use. I did really like wearing ties, and I enjoyed tracing the districts' symbols."

"That'll be enough." Stio tucked his notebook away. "I think I'm going to have you be opposites but united. This is going to be so fun!"

Stio worked fast. I suppose he would have to because we were to ride the chariots through the Capitol in a few days. All the tributes were whisked outside the city where we would meet with their stylists, get dressed, and begin riding the chariots. There would be people all along the way, most of them demanding we pay for the pain they endured. To make sure nobody went haywire there would be invisible shields all along the way. Morton and I would be the first chariot since we were the first of Johanna's group and (by means unknown to me) the mentor's tributes went in order of Johanna, Annie, Beetee, and Enobria. I was given a six-by-six foot room, my dress in a bag, and an Avox to get ready.

I unzipped the bag and silky white fabric came pouring out of it. I gasped. Never, _never_ had I seen something this beautiful, let alone wear it. The Avox helped me put it on and turned me around to see myself in the mirror. The dress was soft white, the skirt starting just above my waist. On the skirt a mandolin flowed in the dress' ruffles, the front of which stopped just above my ankles while the back dragged about an inch. The top seemed to drip crimson blood down my chest, and for sleeves a series of roses went up around my shoulder and onto the back.

"Are there any shoes?" I asked my Avox. She shook her head. "What am I doing with my hair and make-up?" She gestured for me to sit down in the one chair. When I obeyed she took my hair and transformed the thick, always-has-twenty-strands-flying-around mess into the most gorgeous French twist I could imagine. "Whoa. Where did you learn that?"

"I ha-had learned from my-my mom. She li-liked to make us look pre-pretty for th-the reaping."

"You have a speech box too?"

She nodded. "It's o-odd. I hav-haven't talked in ye-years. The box ke-keeps stuttering." She took out some make-up. "Now fo-or your fac-ce."

By the time she was done, I looked like a swan in human form. I took in a deep breath as my hand hovered over the handle of the door. "Well, I think it's time to see my detesting crowd." The Avox smiled and exhaled in a laughing manner, the closest an Avox could come to laughing.

I met Morton and Stio at the first chariot. Morton stared at my dress while I stared at his suit. He was in all black with the thirteen different symbols for the districts in gold on his back. The front of his suit had thirteen golden pins, each portraying the district symbols. Though his suit, pants, shirt, and even his shoes were coal-black his tie was the same white of my dress. "I forgot the best part of your outfit, Rosalynn!" Stio exclaimed. I thought he was going to pull out a pair of shoes, but instead he placed a black tiara in my hair. "There. Now you two are a couple."

"You look beautiful, Rosalynn." Morton took my arms and spun me.

I pulled away with a small laugh. "Careful with this dress; I'm afraid to do anything in it." The horn sounded telling the tributes to get on their chariots. "There's our cue." Morton helped push me onto the chariot and I in turn helped pull him up.

"Dance while you're parading through the Capitol!" Stio called up to us.

"What?" I called back as the chariots started moving.

"He said –"

"I know what he said!" I cut Morton off as he reached for my hand and waist. "But I don't know how to dance!"

"I do." He said softly. "I'll lead."

"Someone leads?" But at this point we had entered the Capitol. We danced it away. People yelled at me, hurled insults against my family, screamed of tasting my own medicine. I imagined moving all emotion through my bare toes into the chilly metal of the chariot floor. _I don't care. I don't care. I don't care._

"Don't listen to them." Morton said. "Look at me. Feel my movements. They will see." What exactly they'll see, I had no idea, but when I followed his advice I finally felt at ease. The dress was so smooth on my skin, I could predict Morton's movements depending on how he held my waist and how he moved my arm, and having no shoes gave me an earthy feel as my bare feet flited around the floor. The rest of the night after the chariot ride was a blur of being taken here then there until I had collapsed on my bed, letting the memory of dancing in my dress carry me off into my dreams.


	5. Part 1 The Games: Chapter 5

The next morning I woke to rain pounding on my windows. I hopped through the shower, letting the water wake me up. This would be the first day of training, time to meet all the other tributes. I vaguely wondered if any of the other tributes are as close as Morton and I have become. I kind of doubted it; our relationship was because of the deal we made on the first day, which I couldn't imagine any other tributes making.

When I walked back into my bedroom there was a training outfit folded on my bed. It was a black and grey set complete with a shirt, pants, and shoes. They were made of a loose, comfortable fabric and the shoes felt nice with every move of my foot.

I went down in the dining room to see if any others were getting breakfast. If not I was friends with the Avoxes and could always eat in the kitchen. When I arrived all the mentors were sitting at one of the four tables, a table filled with platters of breakfast behind them. "Oh, good morning." I waved as I placed a few eggs and sausages on my plate.

"We're waiting for the other tributes to arrive." Beetee explained. "How late do you people get up?"

"'You people'?" I laughed. "Not for another half hour at least." I grabbed a fork and knife and went over to join them. "Can I join, or is this a 'victors only' table?"

Annie pulled out a chair next to her and I sat. "You could be a victor," Enobaria said with her pointed-tooth smile that gave me chills.

I shook my head. "That's not happening. I need to die; President Snow's line mustn't survive. Honestly I'm kind of surprised you gave me such a prominent place during the chariot ride." When the conversation froze, I realized how awkward this made everyone feel, even though this was a fact I had already accepted. Why can't I just be normal? I reached for a drink before realizing I forgot to grab one.

In an instant, a cup was being held out to me by one of the Avoxes. "I s-saw you didn't ha-ave one."

I gratefully took it. "Thank you."

The Avox hesitated, then leaned down towards me. "Is i-it true? Are you go-going to die?" This seemed to be an updated version of the box; it sounded more human than robot and stumbled less. I nodded. "Could we-e have your mandolin to reme-remember you by?"

"Can you play it?" I asked.

"Yes. Several of us have learned by wa-watching you." When I agreed the Avox bowed and returned to the buffet area.

"Mandolin?" I turned to see the person who asked this. It was Morton and some other tributes. I guess they were being mentored by Annie because she told them to go to a certain table and she'd join them in a minute. Morton sat down next to me. He was wearing the same exact outfit, only his was an off-white cream color. Again Stio's genius was revealed; Morton's paleness was disguised in the cream color. Apparently we were sticking with the whole different but unified look.

"Yeah, you were there when I mentioned it to our stylist."

"I was a bit distracted processing the whole fight-to-the-death thing we have going on soon."

"Fair enough." I turned back to the victors at the table. "My grandfather was told of an old instrument in one of the ruins out beyond the districts. He had it cleaned up and gave it to me for my tenth birthday. It was sewn into my dress during the chariot ride." I explained to the mentors.

"I loved that dress!" Annie said in her sweet but mildly enthusiastic voice.

"I used to play it for the Avoxes." I said. "Whenever I couldn't sleep I'd take my mandolin to the Avox's quarters and play for them. It soothed those already asleep and there was always at least one person awake to hear the comfort." I smiled at the memories of the Avoxes rocking themselves to my tune. "Sometimes I myself would fall asleep there. But then I woke in my bed the next morning."

Each of the different mentors went to different tables with their tributes. After I had scarfed down my breakfast I turned to observing who I may be fighting instead of listening to Johanna. I studied how certain people sat closer to each other and tried to give myself a general idea of the alliances this year. So far, it seemed as though it would be almost impossible to find someone who wasn't allied with someone else. Everyone looked clingy to their people.

We were taken to the Training Room which was on one of the underground floors. We were put in a circle and our name and mentor were pinned to our backs. I noticed how everyone else's outfit was skin-tight and dark colored. I was probably the heaviest person there, since I refused to surgically alter my appearance. I crossed my arms to hide my stomach (though my shirt did it for me).

The main trainer gave us a small introduction to the gymnasium and made sure we knew not to combat any other tributes. Soon everyone was rushing off to the different stations.

"Where do you want to go?" Morton asked.

I shrugged. "Just because we made the agreement doesn't mean we can't leave each other's side."

"You didn't listen to Johanna, did you?" I shook my head. "She told us to make as many people like us as possible; try to limit the people who want to kill us. She also said we could decide for ourselves if we wanted to do that through allies or not."

"That's a no." I shrugged. When it came to the Hunger Games, the fewer bonds made with other tributes the more sanity was kept, and the best alliances only involved two or three people. And seeing as I was expecting to lose my life anyway, there was no sense in losing my mind too.

Morton rolled his eyes. "At least make friends so fewer people want to rip your heart out." He said as we joined the group lining up to throw knives. He nudged two girls. "Have you ever thrown a knife?" They giggled.

I felt a twinge of jealously. Might as well get in good with some others. I leaned towards a boy in Beetee's group. "I bet you can't hit the dummy's arm."

He looked at me indignantly. "I'll have you know I played darts and was very good at it. I'll go next, Hal."

The trainer, Hal I suppose, nodded and handed the boy a knife. He looked straight at me and in a glance he threw it at the dummy's arm. It stuck there like a rose on a dresser.

I am so dead.


	6. Part 1 The Games: Chapter 6

"Morton! Morton, over here!" June and Chrysie called from across the gym. Morton and I had been working on making a proper noose at the knot station, but apparently more important people needed him.

He waved back. "Just a minute, girls!" He worked on his knot with an obscure smile on his face. "I've never been wanted by girls before." I could recognize restrained excitement in his voice.

I rolled my eyes. "You just like the attention."

"And you're just jealous." He nudged me with his elbow before going to join them.

"You wish." I said after him. I had mentally developed a chart of who would be forming alliances. June and Chrysie would be together with Morton and the guy I challenged to throw the knife on the first day of training. All of Enobaria's group would form an alliance. There would be four total independent people (including me), two from Annie's group and the other from Beetee's group. The rest was forming two final alliances. That is, judging by how they chose to train and eat lunch.

"Why are you spendin' so much time here?" The trainer of the knot station asked me. "You should be with all the other girls, working on the arrow."

I shrugged. "You can't learn to tie knots by just watching it. Besides, I once spent all morning working there, and by the end the safest place to be was the target." I remembered one time I almost speared the trainer through the head, and had joked about mistaking his bald head for some food. I finished my knot and smiled at my work. "If I can manage a rope I might be able to avoid being murdered. Bye." I waved to the trainer as I headed to the station devoted to making decent (and non-poisonous) meals out of plants. Johanna said we had to make friends; she never said who we had to make them with. Supposing these trainers had some decent money I had won myself some sponsors.

There wouldn't be any time to be ranked by the Gamemakers this year; I suppose they don't have enough people to finish the arena and judge us in the limited time. But we were still going to have the broadcasted interview tomorrow with Ceaser Flickerman. Go figure.

I came down to dinner and saw they were re-running the opening chariot ride. Why did they keep showing that? "Apparently the stunt you and Morton did is sort of popular." Johanna said as she gestured to us dancing. "Only sort of. Some see it as an act, others see you as the exception, and a few are reconsidering the Hunger Games and are donating money to you two." She sat down next to me and frowned. "How can you stand to be around Capitol people?" She hadn't taken her eyes off of a boy from Enobaria's group. "I can't tell if that person's a boy or a girl!" I could see her confusion; the boy was wearing more make-up than I had in my life and had hair that would be long for a boy but short for a girl.

"It's a boy."

"How can you tell?"

"Because he's staring at you." I giggled.

She rolled her eyes. "I'll just tell him to back off, and maybe punch him."

"No, that's the worst thing you can do!" I grabbed her arm before she could stand up. "He'll just be more attracted to your aggressive hard-to-get attitude." She looked at me as if she didn't know what to do, a feeling she probably didn't feel much. "I got this." I stood up and sauntered over to the creep.

"Hey." My voice was light and sing-song-y. He pulled his eyes away from Johanna long enough to look me in the eye. "You're the most interesting guy I ever saw. You're so strong in training sessions and –" I heaved a great sigh. "Wanna meet me tonight?" He was captivated. He had set his hopes high and here was a girl already ready for him. Too easy. "My floor number is 10." I kissed my palm and held it out towards him as I walked away as if it pained me to go. I took my seat next to Johanna.

"What did you do?" She asked.

"Told him of my undying love for him and told him to meet me in my room on floor ten."

"But you're on my floor; the fourth floor."

"The tenth floor is home to Beetee's last female choice who almost kneed Morton when he tried to be friendly with her, certain he was making a move." Johanna grinned at me in a guilty way when you know you shouldn't be smiling, but yet it makes you smile all the wider. "You're welcome."

Over dinner Johanna explained tomorrow to her group. "After breakfast each of your pairs will have an hour for me to work with you. If one of your pairs is willing to do it an hour before breakfast we can open up the whole afternoon for your stylists."

"Rosalynn and I can do it before breakfast." Morton said. I raised an eyebrow at him. When was he designated the decision-maker for the two of us? I was still rather ticked at him for glorying in the attention June and Chrysie were showing him and made sure to ride the elevator to our floor with Johanna, much after he had left dinner. But as we arrived to our floor, Morton was standing there waiting for me.

"Hey Rosalynn, wanna go out on the roof?"

I knew this was code for 'can we talk outside?' I nodded, mainly because if I turned him down he would know something was wrong and that was something I'd rather not let him know. He led me to the door that led to a stairway that took us to the roof. Even though I knew this existed, I had never ventured to the roof before. I was about to take a gander at the view when Morton spoke. "When did you become – de-capitolized?"

"What?"

"When did you realize the Capitol wasn't so great?" He clarified. "When did you stop just worrying about the latest fashion and figured out there was a bigger world?"

I shrugged and sat down next to him. "Not sure; I guess I always knew." I sighed. "I once lived in a district. A month after I turned seven I woke up in a strange bed in a strange room. I had no idea who I was or where I should be. All I knew was the Hunger Games, and the fear that went with it. Can you imagine only knowing fear?" Tears built up inside me as the earliest things I could remember were brought to the surface. "I was a blank sheet, a person with all the common knowledge I needed but none of the memories I craved. The first thing I said was 'I am seven years old. I can predict the Hunger Games' victors. I don't belong here.' Snow came in, told me my name was Rosalynn, I was his granddaughter, and I was here to tell him who would win each Hunger Games." Morton wrapped his arm around my shoulders as the tears broke through in sobs. "I knew he was lying. I knew if he was telling the truth I'd remember. But I didn't dispute it. I said to myself 'You have a new life, you can make the most of it.' As I grew up I slowly found out the evil things he did, but I let him believe I had no idea, to show him he could turn his life around."

My sobs had made talking too difficult. Morton just nodded and I didn't need to finish. I mourned my missing life into his jacket. After a moment of awkward hesitation, he held me tighter and uncertainly muttered some encouragement. That was all I needed to let go of the life I had lost.


	7. Part 1 The Games: Chapter 7

"Oh, I'm so horrible." I said as I wiped my eyes and moved out from under Morton's arm. "You ask me an innocent question and I vent all the pent-up feelings of half my life into you. But thank you. I – I don't feel so empty anymore."

He took off his jacket, leaving a sleeveless shirt underneath. "Here, take it." He tossed it on my face. "You have better use for a wet rag than I do." I smiled feebly. "Now I don't have quite the story you have, but it is interesting." He took in a deep breath and I saw his lighthearted face transform into something more serious and deep. "My mom was alone. She was never married and I am technically illegitimate. She always had these men come over at night and I wasn't allowed to disturb the two of them. One time when Finnick came over I decided to hide under my mom's bed to find out what they were up to. In my childish mind I assumed they were watching my favorite television show without me. But when I heard the secrets mom gave him in payment I cringed. I was so afraid of what my mother suggested to Snow I never wanted to see her again. Then they did – you know what." Morton glanced at me sheepishly. "I threw up. Literally. There was puke everywhere under my mother's bed." Despite the tears still drying on my face, I snorted and came close to laughing. "My mom stopped and said 'What's that smell?' Then when the bed began moving Finnick said 'You might want more clothes on.' By the time they were pulling me out from under the bed my face was covered in my last meal. My mom helped me clean the vomit from my face and sent Finnick home. I never saw her the same way, but I still loved her. She still raised me, and that's something I can never repay her." He looked at me and I could see the layers of confusion in his eyes.

I nodded as sincerely as I could. "I understand; that's how I am with Snow. I still call him 'Pappy' sometimes in my mind." He smiled me as if I had just unraveled a knot sitting inside him for years.

This was a moment. We were connecting, sitting together, understanding one another. I could almost hear Morton contemplating kissing me on the cheek right now. I was contemplating letting him. But then I saw an image of Morton sitting here with June. Something sparked in me and I stood up abruptly.

"I need to go take my shower." I explained. He agreed and we walked back on our floor. Before we could split off to our own rooms he grabbed my hand.

"We go in the arena in a few days, and I just wanted to make sure we were still in our agreement."

I raised an eyebrow at him and smiled. "I just opened up my heart to you and vice versa. I still promise not to kill you." A wave of great relief swept across his face and he nodded before going into his room.

While I was in the shower I tried to sort myself out. Was Morton lying just so he didn't need to worry about me attacking him? And what was my problem with Chrysie and June? Stupid emotions. I accidentally hit the dial for the shower and the water became ice cold. I tried to keep from shrieking as I hopped around to change it to normal. _You only have a few more days before the arena, Rosalynn. Get a hold of yourself._ But since I wasn't going to win, I might as well help Morton along as much as I could.

I don't know how it happened, but in a matter of minutes the shower water was turned off, I was wrapped in a towel, and I was asleep in the bathtub. How do I know I was asleep? Because in my dream that boy I told to meet me on the tenth floor found me and tried to kiss me. In my semi-conscious mind I wondered what Snow would do if he knew about the boy. Probably beat him up, think better of it, then poison him. Morbid, but worthy of a small laugh. I woke to my Avox trying to shake me awake. "You-ou need to go to be-ed now, Rosalynn."

"Mm. Wouldn't wanna forget that." I joked as I stood up. She graciously turned her back while I changed into my nightgown. "Tomorrow Johanna's teaching me about how to live in the arena. Then we have our interviews." I processed out loud as we both went from my bathroom to my bedroom.

"You wi-ill win. I kno-ow it." The Avox pulled back the sheets so I could climb into bed. "Yo-ou'll go out there tom-morrow, make everyone lo-ove you, and win sp-sponsors."

I shrugged. "I wouldn't be too sure about that. All they see in me is Snow."

"Pro-ove them wrong." The Avox turned to leave but stopped as she reached the door. "Th-e Avoxes are ge-etting paid."

"That's great! You really deserve it."

She reached into her pocket and I heard two coins clink together. "It's no-t much, but it's so-omething. I'm spe-ending it on you wh-en you go in-into the are-na." She quietly shut the door behind her.

I pulled the covers up to my neck. The rebels had done something right in giving the Avoxes a small pay. At least they were trying to help as many people as they could, and I just happened to be one of the few who had to pay for that happiness.

My eyes closed as I snuggled deeper. I still didn't know the Avox's name, and yet I knew she was the closest thing I had to a sister.

* * *

Morton and I met Johanna in her room. She reminded us that we could be coached separately, but we shrugged the suggestion off; our pact had made us unafraid of what the other knew. I vaguely wondered how she viewed me. Did she see the one who made her bed before her Hunger Games? Or was I the girl she had to train to survive?

"Do you two know what your stylist is making for you?" Johanna snapped me out of my thoughts.

"He's going for the whole 'separate but united' idea." I said.

"I think he might be using complimentary colors, you know, like blue and orange." Morton laughed when I cringed. I could not, repeat _could not_ do red, orange, or yellow. I could look good in any shade of the cooler colors, but when it came to those three I looked sickly. But Morton could also look very good in the dark colors. I just had to trust Stio's stylist abilities.

"What angle do you want to be?" Johanna asked. "Mysterious, timid, cocky –"

"Rosalynn's just going to be herself." Morton said. Again, who put him in charge? "She just has a way to make everyone like her." Johanna didn't argue.

"That's one done. What about you, Morton? You seem to have this planned out, for better or worse."

"I'm going to go for the kind of guy you want to get to know." Morton explained.

Johanna shrugged. "That's all good for you; it's your life in your hands. Keep in mind, from now on the Games have already started. The past few days were about preparing you for the arena, today is about strategizing, and then tomorrow you put those strategies to work. Now let's get down to breakfast."

My dress arrived after lunch with a note not to do anything special with my hair. I examined the dress. It was ruffled and perfectly accented me, sea foam green with dark blue sandals and a blue pendent with matching earrings. It was no wonder what color Morton would be wearing.

We rode together down the elevator, my hands hiding in the folds of my dress so he couldn't do something weird like try to escort me. Morton looked like my counterpart, outfitted in a dark blue suit with a sea-foam green shirt and matching shoes. Different but united. We walked into the crowd of tributes waiting for their interviews and I noticed how the alliances had grouped together to discuss what they were going to say. Morton took me to befriend June and Chrysie. "You might as well make less people want to kill you while you still can." He whispered when I made a face. "Besides, June's voice is so whiny. Oh, why hello girls–"

Johanna was right. This was the true start of the Hunger Games, where we all entered the mental arena. The tributes were ushered to our seats where we would wait until our interview. I smoothed my hair and controlled my breathing to seem strong and collected. Let the 76th Hunger Games begin.

 **Author's Note: Hello readers, hope you're enjoying the story thus far. Here marks the end of the first (of three) parts. I hope to post new chapters every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday so keep checking back on those days for the latest update (you know, until the story is completed).**

 **Please let me know what you're liking/disliking so far so I can keep tweaking before posting each chapter. Or just leave a review in general; I would never begrudge a review!**


	8. Part 2 The Arena: Chapter 8

Ceaser was wearing a nice purple-blue suit with his hair tinted that color. He probably didn't want to go all out now that the Capitol had to cut back on their expenses. I think we were going in reverse order of how we entered the Capitol on the chariots. As for male or female, each pair was allowed to choose which of them went before the other. Either Morton or I would be last; we were going to pull straws before it was our turn.

I really only paid attention to the interviews of the people who would make an alliance with Morton. June boasted of her athletics and ability to use a bow and arrow. Chrysie was a little on the seductive side but did mention how she was able to wield an ax. The boy I challenged on the first day of training was mysterious. I noted how he never mentioned his perfect aim with a knife. Ceaser couldn't get much out of him, and it built up my respect for him. There were more timid kids than I could count; they were either faking it or were going to die by the first day. Several were cocky, talking about how they knew they could survive some things they saw on previous Hunger Games. There was nobody I liked. As our turn drew nearer Morton drew two straws out of his pocket. "Short one goes first." He whispered. "You pick." My hand hovered over the two straws until I finally grabbed the one on the right. It was long.

"Now for the people on the first chariot, the ones that were dancing. Which one of you lovebirds wants to go first?" Ceaser got a small round of laughter.

Morton and I stood up at the same time. "We're not lovebirds!" I shouted and sat down. I earned myself gales of laughter. Morton just smiled, pretended to trip over my legs, and went up to shake hands with Ceaser.

"So, Morton Levi Bodeneth, I have to ask, are you two lovebirds?"

Morton shook his head as he took his seat. "No, not yet at least." He winked at me. "But seriously, I don't really know. If our blood wasn't going to be spilled soon I would definitely consider it. And she's just so jealous whenever I talk to another girl."

I wanted to shout _Am not!_ but I restrained since I felt like I was already pushing my speaking-out-of-turn card. Instead I rolled my eyes. In my peripheral vision I noticed a close-up of my face on the giant screen above, showing what would be broadcasted to the Districts.

"I'll admit I was shocked when you two came in dancing on the chariot. Whose idea was that?"

"Our stylist, Stio, suggested it. I had to lead because Rosalynn was freaked at the idea of dancing in front of a crowd." Morton's smile grew. "Well, you can imagine how she can get."

Ceaser nodded in agreement. "I think she's made an impression on you; you're always bringing the conversation back to her. Tell me about you. What do you like most about the rebels governing us?"

"Hmm, that's a hard one." _It's not that hard._ I thought. This was one of the two questions Ceaser had asked everyone. Morton should have at least thought about it if not have his answer ready. "My personal life didn't change very much when they rebelled. My mom shoved me in the back room when they came to the Capitol. I emerged days later with the house mostly intact but my mom nowhere to be seen." Morton said. "I do kind of miss my mom, even though it was her murder plans that got me here in the first place. I think I like having people look like humans best."

Ceaser laughed. "Had enough of the feathers and make-up did we now?"

Morton nodded in agreement. "Though I must say, your outfits were always top-notch."

"Why thank you. I try my hardest to look this fabulous." Ceaser struck a flamboyant pose for the audience. "What skill do you think will put you at an advantage over the others in the arena?"

This was the other question Ceaser asked everyone in some way. Morton was prepared for this one at least. "I can survive. My plan is to defend myself and find edible food and water. Out-live the others. Also, Rosalynn will make sure I don't die as much as she can."

"Yes, well that's to be expected from the girl who _definitely_ doesn't care for you." Ceaser got another laugh from the audience as I felt all eyes return to me. I was getting tired of Morton riding on the audience's skewed impression of me. "Who do you suppose will be your biggest competition?"

"Rosalynn." There was a collective hush of shock across the room. Heat rushed to my head and I stared resiliently into my lap. "She's got the same techniques, we're evenly matched. All the other kids will take out the stronger ones first. Mark my words, we'll be among one of the last ones out there on opposite ends of the arena, just trying to make it through one more day. She and I are almost identical competitors; she just doesn't expect to win."

Ceaser had one more question. "What is your weapon of choice?"

Morton bit his lip. "I'd say a long sharp knife. It's practical and can be used for survival tactics."

Ceaser stood up and shook his hand again. "Well, thank you, Morton. These may have been some of the most openly honest answers I've ever gotten." Morton took his seat while Ceaser called me up. "So, Rosalynn Delaine Snow. I don't even need to think about an opening question for you; what is it like to be the daughter of President Snow?"

"Not all that odd." I shuffled in my seat. Throughout Morton's interview I had been getting more and more tired of being on display and now I just wanted to get this over and escape to my room. "He would sometimes visit me throughout the year, and always on my birthday. He gave me a bouquet of his roses and some small present, like a new fuzzy pair of pajamas with microfibers. You know, special things like that."

"Were there any gifts that stick out in your mind?"

I nodded. "My mandolin." I didn't want to elaborate; my mandolin was mine, not for everyone to know about. I didn't want it to be the next popular trend, like the mokingjay pin.

"What did you like best about the rebels replacing your grandfather?" I must not have been giving Ceaser enough to work with that he moved to the fallback question. What was it Morton said would get me through this interview? I have a way to make everyone like me.

"The Avox's speech-boxes." I said. "They're like family to me. And also now I can wear this dress." The audience laughed. They were the splash of water to the face that reminded me my life was in jeopardy.

"That dress is almost as stunning as your first one." Ceaser sat further up in his chair. "But I guess a Snow would wear dresses like this every day."

"Not really." I shrugged. "Sometimes I would just wear an updated version of the Avox's uniform. It was an easy design. This is gorgeous, but I can't wait to curl under my covers and sleep."

"Well we still got a few more questions." Ceaser warned jokingly. "What would you like to find most in the Cornucopia?"

I bit the side of my lip to think. "My grandfather adopted me because I could accurately predict the Hunger Games victors by watching them a few days. The winners usually avoided the Cornucopia and went straight to find water, unless they were Careers." I thought a little more. "But if I had to choose something; a rope. It'll keep me alive long enough. I'm not expecting to win because, seriously, who would let any relative of Snow win?"

Ceaser didn't seem to know what to say. I know I had never seen someone say in the interview that they weren't going to try to be champion. "One last question before you curl under your sheets: what advantage do you think you have over the others?"

This one I was prepared for. "I have studied Hunger Games on end. As long as I can hide from the other tributes I'll be just fine. Until, you know, some fatal thing the Gamemakers throw at me."

"Thank you, Rosalynn. You were certainly nothing like I expected you to be." As he helped me get off of the stage, I could have sworn there was an odd catch in his voice. "Let us applaud all our tributes!"


	9. Part 2 The Arena: Chapter 9

I went to bed early the night before I was to go into the arena. My Avox was trying to hold back her tears, knowing I was walking to my death soon. She didn't speak as I climbed into bed, though I could see how much she would miss me in her eyes.

"Take my mandolin." I said suddenly. "Once I'm in the – you know – play it for the other Avoxes. But I may still need it tonight, you know?" She nodded and politely backed away, her eyes already glossy.

I woke three hours later to crying. At first I thought it was my Avox, but then the person spoke through their tears. I couldn't tell what the person said, but it was definitely not spoken through a speech box. I listened around for the sound. It was coming from under me, probably some poor tribute afraid of tomorrow's horrors. I grabbed my mandolin and left to find the person.

On the third floor I looked for the room with light showing under the door. Thankfully there was only one. I opened the door and let myself in.

It wasn't a tribute as I had expected; it was Annie clutching a pillow to her chest while she cried at the window. She turned when she heard my steps. "Oh, I thought you were Johanna telling me to shut up." She got up and shuffled to her bed. "I'm going to sleep now, I won't wake you up."

But instead of leaving, I came in, shut the door behind me, and sat on her bed. "It's Finnick, isn't it?" I saw Finnick reacting to a Jabberjay mimicking her screaming voice during the previous Hunger Games. I knew they loved each other, and was sure I heard someone say they had been married a few months before he sacrificed himself during the rebellion. Annie nodded and began a fresh wave of tears. "Well, just bottling it up won't help." I wrapped my arms around her and began rocking her. She let her head rest on my shoulder. "Why don't you go take a shower, put something new on and meet me in here? It's about time you could be a girl."

I fingered my mandolin while she got herself ready. I went through the usual four cords and tried to re-find some finger positions that didn't make it sound like plucking strings. When Annie came in her beauty shone I'm sure for the first time in months. Just goes to show that a little water and a dress can make any girl happy, even if the dress is a nightgown.

I noticed her baby bump for the first time; it was no bigger than a loaf of bread. Some pregnancies were like that, the mother would give birth when everyone assumed she was barely more than halfway with the pregnancy before discovering the baby was nine months old and came out on time. That happened to one of the Avoxes; she had to put the baby up for adoption.

"Sit here, I'm going to braid your hair. The question is what kind of braid?" I let her sit while I fiddled with her hair, considering the different kinds of braids and which would look best on her. I had ruled out a side braid when Annie grabbed her ears and squirmed in her seat. I grabbed her and shook her. "Annie, it's okay, you're not in the arena. Come back to me."

She blinked and opened her eyes. "I'm sorry." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. I didn't say anything; I was about to be thrown in the area with the horrors that still haunted her. I had to keep talking to prevent either of us from thinking about the Games.

"I think we should go with a French braid." I sat on my knees to begin working. "Did Finnick ever tell you he spent a night at my room? One time after being hired by some lady he came to the Capitol building I was living in. Only my grandfather had just poisoned his patron and Finnick was left wandering around here with nothing to do. I saw him while I was getting a drink and invited him to sleep on my couch." My hands weaved her hair together. "We spent the night away talking. Not surprisingly, the subject came to his love life. He told me how it was so weird how, of all the ladies who hire him out, you were the only female he really wanted to get to know. He was so proud of how, despite the Games mentally damaging you, you still stood strong. You didn't revert to morphine or alcohol. He thought he was going crazy, mind you. I encouraged him to, you know, talk to you more. Form a stronger friendship. I'm sure more people than I can count are happy he did."

Annie rubbed her baby belly. "The last thing we said to each other is what we were going to name the baby. Finnick didn't want to bother with a girl name, but I insisted just in case, though every pregnancy expert I've talked to said it would be a boy."

"What names did you chose?"

"If it's a girl, Faye Philomena. But if it's a boy, Jerome Finnick."

"Mm, Philomena. I may use that one for my first girl." I didn't mention the fact that I wouldn't live long enough to have a child. "What was it like to grow up in a district? Do you miss it?"

"I will always miss my home." Annie said. "The thing I miss more than anything is the salt air. You can't spend more than one day without it getting into your skin and hair. The salt in my hair has been rinsed off in the time away from District 4, but I still smell like salt. Every time I take a shower the salt and water combine and smell like my old home. But one thing I really liked was our rite of passage. I suppose all districts have some rite of passage in some way, something the kids do to prove they _could_ break the rules if they so wished. Anyway, in District 4 it was swimming in the ocean when you were supposed to be doing something else. Some snuck away during bath time and jumped in, others did it on the job. My little sister's whole class ran out and jumped into the ocean in the middle of class to prank their teacher. I did it after curfew with my brother and his friends." She laughed. "I threatened to tell mom if he didn't let me come. We ran to the ocean, but no one wanted to jump in first. I shouted 'chicken!' and shoved my brother into the waves before following him. Soon we were all body surfing the waves and splashing each other. One of the Peacekeepers caught us and sent us all home. It was one of the few rules they let us break without any punishment. Oftentimes the Peacekeepers pretended not to notice the kids running into the ocean with all their clothes on."

I laughed as I finished braiding her hair. "There you go, all done."

Annie examined herself in the mirror and beamed. "It's wonderful! Now let me do you. What kind of braid do you want?"

I grinned as her careful fingers went through my hair. This must be what it's like to have a family. My eyes drooped, and for the rest of the night, I didn't remember the Hunger Games.


	10. Part 2 The Arena: Chapter 10

I was dreaming again. How did I know? I was dressed as an Avox and making a tribute's bed for her. Johanna walked in, but not Johanna as she was today, Johanna before the Capitol's Hunger Games and torture took away so much of her. She pointed at me. "Rosalynn!"

I shook my head and shrugged. How did she know my identity?

"Rosalynn Snow!"

I pointed to myself and shook my head.

"Where are you?"

I pointed to myself, gestured to the ground and shrugged.

"The Hunger Games are about to begin!"

I pointed to her and then to the door. She needed to get into the arena before the Hunger Games could start.

"Rosalynn!"

I opened my eyes. Johanna had opened the door to Annie's room. Annie and I had fallen asleep in the oddest position ever. I had my head in her lap gripping my mandolin to my chest. Annie was laying perpendicular to me with her fingers finishing up my side braid. "What the heck were you two doing?" Johanna exclaimed, not bothering to check whether we were awake or not.

"Having a little girl time." I giggled as I sat up.

"Well, once you're done with your 'girl time' you're going to be put in the arena." Johanna said. She grabbed me and led me to where I was scooped up into a hovercraft and injected with a tracking device. I was given a decent breakfast before I was brought to my Launch Room where Stio was waiting for me.

"Who's with Morton?" I asked as he handed me my outfit.

"A bell is going to ring in a minute so all the stylists can go to their other tribute." Stio explained. "And your Avox sent this as a token." He handed me an anklet made from pieces of the white Avox uniform. On the side was the name 'Martha'. So I finally learned her name. I slipped it on my ankle. "You've got layers. A breathable shirt and shorts with a coat and some pants that reflect heat."

"The arena will change climates." I said. "That's weird; they've never done that before, at least not to a great extent. I suppose the rebels want to finish the Hunger Games with a bang."

"Or make you suffer through all weathers, like the districts did." A loud bell clanged throughout the building. "Make sure you're on that platform after the second bell. I don't know what kind of blood bath will be at the Cornucopia, but I know for certain several of the kids are just going to go out to look for water, thanks to your idle comment during the interviews. Do what you gotta do, girl."

"Make sure my Avox gets my mandolin!" I called before the door swung shut.

I paced the room, gulping down water because who knows how long it'll be until I can get another drink. The bell clanged again and I got onto the platform. In a minute it began to rise. There were a few moments of complete darkness before a sudden almost blinding light. Then I was in the open air, waiting for the minute of idle standing on the platform to be over.

One of the female tributes from Annie's group shouted something and started running for the Cornucopia. The second her feet touched the ground the mines exploded, sending bits of her all over the tributes next to her. Everyone screamed as blood sprinkled down on everyone, but I had already tuned that out, my ears were perked only for the buzzer.

There it was! I ran straight for the heart of the Cornucopia while everyone was distracted and ran over the giant pile at its mouth to hide in the end of it. I laid in the bottom face-down. Hopefully nobody would think to look here, and then when nobody was looking, I could take all the food and weapons I wanted and run for it. I hadn't even bothered getting a look at my surroundings; there would be plenty of time for that. Right now the shade of the Cornucopia was very pleasant, because in the one minute outside I had registered this much: it was hot. Not just hot, it was humid. I had already begun to sweat in the jacket. It was probably one of the Gamemakers' ploys; they would make it hot to begin with and get cold at night in hopes that some tributes would remove their coats then freeze to death or something.

Heat stroke then frostbite; double the dangers. I was very thankful for my years of watching the Hunger Games in detail.

It was chaos outside. The pile of stuff between me and the farthest of the supplies began to shrink and, between the cracks of bags and backpacks, I could see tribute after tribute go down. I couldn't see _how_ they were killed, just their silhouettes flail and collapse with a gut-curdling cry for mercy.

As the shock of the bloodbath became more real the sounds started to mingle with the screams of the Capitol's tortured prisoners in my head. I curled in on myself. I couldn't do this, I just couldn't. I thought I had prepared myself for this mentally, but I hadn't. Nobody could. As my thoughts drove me deeper in on myself, my hand brushed the anklet from my Avox.

Right, I had people who wanted me to live. Even if I didn't survive, I had to at least go down honorably. I hardened myself to the horrors outside the Cornucopia, this was just my reality now. Time to deal with it.

I used the chaos outside to hide my movements as I grabbed a large dark knapsack and went further back into the Cornucopia, hiding behind it. The action outside was beginning to slow until there was no one else but Enobaria's group, who seemed to be taking the role of the Careers.

"That took out a lot of them." The boy's voice shook as they re-grouped.

"You doing okay?"

"Hey, this is our lives now." The voice seemed steady, but Rosalynn could tell it was forced. "We've got to make a show for the districts, make Enobaria proud."

"And keep the districts from attacking the Capitol again." Rosalynn could barely hear the girl's voice before she spoke again, more confident this time. "Besides, that's what they get for not taking the training sessions seriously."

"At least some ran straight into the forest."

"Yeah, because of Rosalynn." My heart jumped into my throat when my name was brought up. "What do you think her plan is?"

"She says she's not expecting to win."

"Obviously part of her plan. She's President Snow's granddaughter, everything she does puts me on edge. We need to hunt her down first, I want to take her out before it's too late."

The first voice I recognized spoke. "I've already claimed her. You know what she did to me." It was the boy I had lied to when he was creeping on Johanna.

Great, I already had two people prepared to spill my blood. They started pulling some of the things off the top, but leaving some in the Cornucopia so there was a clear pathway between me and the forest.

"Might as well look for some water around here. You should keep guard." I saw the back of some girl's head put itself in front of the mouth facing the forest.

"Here! I found a river right in front of the forest." There was a short pause. "It's so cold! It tastes so good! You guys have to –" The voice cut off.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Can't you see it?" The girl in front of the Cornucopia stood from her spot. "The water's poisoned! Why else would it be in such an obvious place? I'll bet at least three tributes have already died from this!"

Now was my chance. I pulled the knapsack onto my back and ran.

My shoes were so soft they barely made a sound. It wasn't until I had hit the forest and stepped on a twig the others heard me. But before they could investigate, I had found a tree with low branches and had started to scale it. It was exhausting work with the heavy knapsack, but I hoped the reason it was so heavy was because it had a lot of valuable stuff. Once I had reached a nice high spot and I was sure the others weren't searching for me, I leaned against the trunk of the tree and slept off the first few minutes of the last Games.


	11. Part 2 The Arena: Chapter 11

I woke to a bright light in the sky, Rue's melody, and the extreme cold. It was only a few short notes, but I guess it's just a temporary replacement of the Capitol anthem. And instead of the Capitol's emblem a mockingjay in a circle had appeared in the sky. I hadn't counted the gun fires, so I looked at the sky in interest. It started with the boy in Enobaria's group; the one that drank the poisoned water. Each headshot had their mentor's name listed at the top, their name listed near the bottom, and their parent's position before the rebellion listed below that. I calculated the mental statistics as each person dead was shown. There were eleven dead total: one from Enobaria's group, two from Beetee's group, five from Annie's group, and three from Johanna's group. Nobody I knew had died yet. So far, this was going to be a short Hunger Games.

Thankfully, I had a good view of Enobaria's group from my tree. They had a fire going in front of the Cornucopia while they scurried through their haul. Using the firelight to see, I saw the circularity of the arena. The Cornucopia was the center and a forest surrounded it. The trees were a conglomeration of pine trees, oak trees, and bushes, with barely any leaves on them (save the evergreens). The poisoned river surrounded the outskirts of the forest. _How am I going to get water if all I have is poisoned?_

My stomach growled, but I was too cold to deal with it. My legs where frozen in their spot. A numbingly cold wind blew, causing my coat and pants to hug my body closer. There was nothing to be done in this weather but bring my legs closer and hope for warmth again in the morning. I reached behind my coat for a hood. Good, there it was. I pulled it over my head and brought my knees closer to my chest, and my head fell forward as I concentrated on keeping my heat alive. My hand found my anklet, which soothed me back to sleep.

There was sure to be a frost in the morning.

I woke to a fresh breeze and a bead of sweat trickling down my leg. Instead of a frost, the place was glazed in dew. Dawn was breaking over the horizon, and it wasn't cold anymore; it was just brisk, as if it would warm up soon. And all the trees had their leaves back; some bushes even had some blossoms.

I stretched and almost fell off my branch. I gripped the sides of the branch to steady myself and felt the knapsack still on my back. I couldn't know what I had in here while still in the tree, and I guess now was a safe a time as any to be on the ground.

I slowly maneuvered my way down the tree. Gracious was I sore, seemed I couldn't even blink without hurting. But, this was the Hunger Games, so I just gritted my teeth and focused on climbing down the tree. Once I had tumbled to the ground, I hurried deeper into the forest, looking for a place to open my treasures. I found a nice circle of trees, leaving a space of grass just big enough to hold a sleeping person (if they bent their knees). Also, some nearby bushes provided excellent cover.

The knapsack was colored to match the bushes. I pulled out each thing individually and set it to the side. I had a generous week's worth of food, two knives; one short and one long, a cooling pack (which used any kind of water to operate), some cushions that fit under clothes, a cream that could be used for allergies, a rope, and, most important of all, a water bottle. But this wasn't just any water bottle; it had an inside lining which would purify any water, even poisonous water, in an hour.

"I'm saved." I muttered under my breath. I felt the bottom of the bag. It was so big for the amount of stuff it held. Then I saw its use. I took off my coat and (after returning all my stuff to the bag) put it on top. I left my pants on and went off to find the river, water bottle in hand. I was topping off the water bottle when the Enobaria group's scout started stirring the others. I quickly screwed the lid on and ran back into the forest.

Back in the clearing I got myself ready for the tributes. I took a few minutes to lay on the ground, properly stretch, and rub some of the ache out of my muscles before placing the cushions underneath my t-shirt and shorts where they would stay. I wrapped the rope around my waist and placed the two knives in it like a belt. The rope made climbing up trees easier and soon I had mastered throwing a rope around a branch and climbing up it, with my legs walking up the tree, while holding the two knives. I could do this at half the speed if I kept my knapsack on my back, but I left the bag up in one of the trees in the circle, which I marked with two cuts from the knife. Then I heard a snarl to my left.

How stupid am I? How could I have forgotten about the animals the Gamemakers placed in the arena? One glance to my left and I got a good idea of what I was dealing with. Large, grey fur, fuzzy tail, low growl. A wolf. A whole pack of them if I knew the animals (or the Gamemakers). I reverted to the deer's defense: freeze until the danger comes straight towards you. The wolf snarled again as did some of its buddies. My heart pounded so hard they could probably hear it.

Then they were distracted by something else. Someone, several people, were trudging through the forest. The wolves chased this new distraction while I scampered up my tree, pulling my rope up behind me. With a better view, I saw who had saved me: Enobaria's group.

Unlike me, they saw the wolves before they heard them. I saw the whole bloody battle, but would rather not retell it. But by the end two of them were mortally wounded and all the wolves were dead. I noticed that although they had more weapons than I did, they only had knives that were just as advanced as mine. This was another of the Gamemaker's tricks; only one kind of weapon.

I slowly reached for one of my packs of food; I was starving. But the Es (that was what I was calling the members of Enobaria's group now) were coming my way. Thankfully the pack didn't make a sound as I opened it, tore off a piece of dried meat, and chewed it. What I was more worried about was if any of my stuff fell. Thankfully they passed without as much as a glance towards my grove of trees. But I still heard them.

"–going to be a short Hunger Games."

"Which is good; I'd like to escape this hell as soon as possible."

"What makes you so sure _you'll_ escape it?" There was a bit of uneasy awkward laughter at this.

"And we should keep going for the others tonight. We need to keep the public entertained."

"Or the Gamemakers will _make_ us entertaining."

"I still can't believe Noss let Rosalynn escape from the Cornucopia."

"Nobody knew she was there, we weren't looking for her!"

"Can we just get back to the Cornucopia? I want to see if we have any bandages." One of the tributes who was bleeding badly said.

They agreed and started discussing their load of stuff until they were out of earshot. I kept a tab on them through the humidity of the day, hidden in some shrubbery near the poisoned river, occasionally munching on the food I had slipped in my pocket. I had a close call once, but the E seemed too distraught when she gathered water from the river only meters away from my position. A few moments later two canons sounded for the two injured Es, seemingly poisoned by their own alliance. By evening, another canon sounded as the trees' leaves began to change colors and fall, though I had no idea who had died, or how. As the Es prepped to go hunting for tributes, I went back to my grove of trees to be ready myself.

Ten of us were left, and at least one more would die tonight; and it sure as the sun wasn't going to be Morton.


	12. Part 2 The Arena: Chapter 12

I followed Enobaria's group during the sunset, my rope wrapped around my waist and knives by my side. My skin itched from allergies to either the morning air or the evening's falling leaves. But no time to use that allergy cream now, not with the Es on the move.

They found Morton's group first. Of course they did, why would I ever get a break? Even through the Es were outnumbered four to three, they clearly would have the advantage with their advanced supplies. Morton's group didn't even have a scout, or the scout had fallen asleep. This rescue-mission was just getting better and better. How could I wake them up without the Es knowing it was me?

I found a good climbing tree next to a pine tree with plenty of pine cones. Perfect. I used my rope to climb up the tree with my pockets full of pine cones and hands clutching my knives like a lifeline. Once I was a good six feet above the others, I let my pine cones fly. Some hit their targets, some hit the Es. This was just as well because they would call out in surprise and this woke the alliance up in an instant.

I missed the whole confrontation thing. I was getting my rope in a position to swing down on them and distract the Es long enough for Morton and whoever he was with to run to safety. I tucked my knives in my pocket and zipped them up. Wouldn't want to lose those. I grabbed my rope and jumped off, swinging towards the group.

Dyaa! The ground was so far away! I held my rope closer as I swung over their heads and back to my tree.

Oh, I'm a genius. I back down in a moment of letting my fear of breaking my bones take over this whole mission. I composed myself and swung forward again.

This time, I let go. Ideally, I land on my feet, knocking over one of the Es, and shock everyone with my sudden presence and grace. But in reality, my angle was all off and I ended up rolling on the ground until I was stopped by a thick tree. That was going to leave a bruise. Thankfully I hit it in a crawling position so I looked up at the Es through the bright stars glaring in my eyes in a way which said 'Yes, I totally planned that.'

"Rosalynn!" One of them ran towards me. I quickly unzipped my pocket and grabbed the larger of the two knives and held it up to his chest.

Everyone froze, wondering what I would do. "Me. One jerk and this is going straight through your heart. By the way, thank you for shouting your plans for the whole arena to hear. It led me straight to you." I got a gander of the scene. June, Chrysie, Morton, and that boy in Beetee's group looked fine, but June was bleeding quite a bit. There were four of them, three Es, and one of me. If I could draw a few Es away it would be good enough for Morton and his group to defend himself. "I only have a few words. Good luck, Morton. And, bu-bye."

I ran. The key to running is run fast enough to hide and let the others pass you, then run in the opposite direction. A good tactic, assuming those chasing you run _past_ you. Thankfully, after a few random turns and throwing any random branches behind me, anyone following me had fallen just far enough behind me that I could hike up a tree. I had gotten so used to climbing with my rope (which was still back with Morton's group) that I was only halfway up the tree when the Es caught up to where I was standing barely above eye-level. With the little light from the sliver of sun it was hard to tell a tall bush from a person, hopefully that would work to my advantage.

I had only managed to draw one away from Morton's group, and it was the boy I had tricked before coming into the arena. He paused just beyond my tree, looking from side to side. I wondered if I should risk getting down to draw him further into the arena, which would keep him from attacking Morton's group. Just as I was weighing my options, there was a sound further in the arena and he followed it. Sleek as a tired cat, I got down from the tree just in time to hear a scream of agony from the direction the E went. Keeping my wits about me, I started to go back towards the center of the arena when I saw him running towards me, his body covered in boils and burns, and then I saw rain following in his wake.

Although I had accepted that I would die at the hands of the Gamemakers, I hadn't yet accepted the pain that would come with it, and whatever that unnatural rain was looked painful. I ran in no particular direction, just away from the rain. Behind me, I could hear the boy trip on a branch, his shriek, and, after a few moments, a cannon fire.

My stomach lurched at the thought of what the boy might look like, after seeing his red and purple stained body from his brief encounter with the rain. I redoubled my speed and felt the rain getting closer. I could smell the steam it created as it fell on the plants, which were starting to become leafless for the night. As the remaining sunlight faded, the bitter cold set in and I could taste blood in my mouth for running in these temperatures. I screamed when I felt some drops hit my ankles; the rain was boiling hot, but I squeezed my eyes shut and kept running, it had to end sometime. That was how the Games worked.

Suddenly, the rain at my heels stopped and Rue's anthem played, almost as if the rebels were proving that they were not as ruthless as the Capitol's Gamemakers. At this point, I was very lost. I looked up into the sky as the mockingjay emblem appeared. If I could just find the angle I had in my tree I could find my stuff, so, without any better plan, I set off.

When the third face of Enobaria's group showed, I began to recognize landmarks, and by the time the fifth E's face was shown, I had found my grove of trees. After everything from the wolves to the rain, there were only six tributes left. All the Es were gone, someone I didn't know from Beetee's group had died, and the last was June.

And just like that, the odds were beginning to go in Morton's favor.

I took out my water, which was filled halfway, and drank the rest. It sat in my stomach like a stone and gave me an ill feeling, but once I ate a few bites of dried meat it calmed down. I went down to the river to refill it, my blood still rapidly coursing through my body, and collected some supplies from the Es' old stash that I could use (a replacement rope, a better knife, medical supplies, and more food).

Back in my tree, I was much too awake to think about sleeping. The frozen wind blew against my face, making it stiffen. I rearranged the cushions in my clothes to try to get more comfortable, but after going from sweating to freezing in a matter of moments, there wasn't much I could do.

Not having anything to do, I let my brain wander as I let my body collapse. After a few minutes of dream-like thinking, I suddenly became alert when my brain realized the truth of this Games. This wasn't just an arena with hot days and cold nights, it actually changed seasons. Morning was spring, the afternoon was summer, and the evenings were autumn. The rebels were forcing the Capitol children to survive through the seasons, just like the districts, in an effort to show their new superiority over those of us used to climate control. Ironic, considering the Hunger Games were originally devised to show the districts that the Capitol was superior to them, it all came full-circle. Well, this certainly explained the lack of creatures in the forest, not many could survive the quick changes. That, and the Gamemakers didn't have much time preparing the arena.

My eyes began to droop again. I just wanted to be done in the arena and go home. But I would never go home again, not Snow's granddaughter. Gripping my anklet, I hummed to myself my favorite tune.

I was one of six. If the Gamemakers wanted to kill me before the remaining tributes did, they had better try harder, and get it done soon.


	13. Part 2 The Arena: Chapter 13

It was late by the time I woke up, seeing as it was getting close to the summer weather. I drank some of my water, munched on a chunk of food, and shed my outer layers. There I could see how bad my allergies were. Bright red spots which itched horribly when I touched them had appeared on my arms and legs. I immediately stumbled for the allergy cream and began rubbing it on each of the red spots, which began to turn purple before my eyes. They matched the nice bruise I had on my shoulder from last night quite nicely. I turned my attention to the burns on my heels from the Gamemakers' rain and spread some of the medication cream I had gotten from the Es' stash on them, wincing each time I touched the burns. I let myself rest for a few minutes while my body absorbed the medicine.

 _Might as well see what horrors await me today._ I went down my tree, got my new rope tied around my waist, positioned my knives, and set out, marking trees along the way to guide me back to my grove.

I didn't know what I was doing since I had all I needed in the tree I just left. Maybe I was just stretching my legs, or drawing a map for myself around the arena. No matter, I was doing something to get my mind off the past few days.

I slipped on a patch of mud, falling on my now-very-sore butt, and felt mud seep into my hair. This was what I hated most about the Hunger Games (I mean, besides the inherent violence); there was no way to maintain your hair. I was fine with my skin being covered in mud, blood, and allergies, but when it came of my hair I went all girly. I hadn't even mentioned the worst part; not far from my face was a worm trying to wriggle away.

I jumped up and shrieked. Loudly. I ran my hands through my braid, feeling for any other creepy-crawlies. After one last shudder I marked the nearest tree and tried to go on my way.

That's right, _tried_ to go on my way, because a knife had hit me in the arm right where the rebels had placed a tracker in me. This was both good and bad. Good: the tracker kept it from hitting anything major. Bad: it was wedged in very deeply and the tracker had emitted some sparks. Only one person I knew could hit a target so perfectly, and he was travelling with Morton and Chrysie. Yep, it was the guy I had challenged on the first day of training. Ironically, the area he had hit on my arm wasn't too far away from the spot he hit the day I met him.

I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming in pain and tried to yank the knife out of my arm, but then I saw them appear. "Oh, hello fellow tributes." I waved with my good arm as if I didn't notice the obvious knife sticking out of my body. "What a night, huh? By the way, I believe you all owe me your lives for waking you up and causing a diversion."

"Let's just get this over with, Snow." To my surprise, it was Chrysie who held the sharpest knife.

"Oh, are we on a last name basis now?" I asked. I bit my lip to hide just how painful the boy's knife was. Stalling time. "You know one of the most interesting parts of watching the Hunger Games? Seeing who would go utterly savage. More times than you might think, it was the perfectly innocent one. Someone like you, Chrysie."

She moved back a step, fear etching in her eyes. "I – I haven't gone savage. I was – was just trying to defend myself. And – and June." So she had killed someone, and she was afraid of herself for doing it. "Be-besides, you said you were going to die anyway. Wha-what's it matter if I'm the one to do it?"

I shrugged with my good shoulder. I saw someone else out of the corner of my eye. And another. Counting Morton's group and myself: that made six people. Apparently my scream had attracted the whole arena. I had to get Morton out of here before an epic bloodbath ensued. "I'm willing to make you a deal," I pulled the knife out of my arm (it took two yanks to get it out). "I give you back your knife and you let me go."

"You like deals, don't you Rosalynn?" Morton smiled a little. Seeing his face gave me an idea to remove him from the picture.

Chrysie frowned at him. It was a jealous kind of frown, where you're madder at the fact that the person was joking with another girl rather than what they said; I recognized it from my own feelings when Morton started talking with June and Chrysie. "Well, _I_ don't like them." As if that changed anything. "I'd rather just do away with you now, Rosalynn." I merely smiled at her, diminishing her jealous streak and forcing her to realize what doing away with me would really involve: shoving that knife through my neck. "You-you yourself said you had to die sometime. What difference does me doing it make?" She was trying to convince herself more than me.

Quicker than a fox, I grabbed Morton and held the bloody knife from my arm up to his neck. "Stand back, or watch him die!"

At the smell of blood Morton went limp in my arms. I struggled to keep him upright.

"You don't have the guts, Snow." Someone stepped out from behind the bushes. The other hiding girl followed suit, but on the opposing side. We were surrounded, and if I knew this group of fighters, nobody would escape this fight without at least a fatal wound.

I raised my eyebrows and slowly, ever so slowly, backed away. "You don't believe me? Well, you're completely right." Again, I ran. This time I didn't have to go more than ten feet before rolling under a pine tree, dragging Morton's body behind me while the fighting broke out.

I blocked my ears out to the screams and knife swings. I concentrated on Morton's heartbeat, making sure he only had fainted and there wasn't something more dire going on with him.

A cannon blast sounded. I heard someone scream a war cry and another cannon echoed. The third took a little while longer, because of either a fatal wound or being targeted by the last survivor. And in a matter of minutes, I had become part of the final three. We were moving into autumn weather and I was getting chilled. I pulled Morton onto my back and followed my markings back to my grove of trees, trying to focus on the soreness in my body to forget about the much worse pain in my arm. Finally I reached my trees and could set Morton down to put my coat and pants on.

Morton was the big issue. He was still unconscious, and judging by the dark circles under his eyes, he was going to stay like that for quite a while. I drank some water periodically and stayed at the foot of the trees, trying to keep him warm with my body heat. He was just wearing his t-shirt and shorts, and his arms felt cool to the touch. Was that normal? As I was trying to decide between leaving Morton in this state to refill my water bottle (and maybe find one for him), or having to wait an hour to get a drink in the morning, a parachute came down from the sky.

This was the first sponsor gift I had seen this Hunger Games. I took it eagerly to see it was a blanket with a note attached to it. The note read:

'Rosalynn. The knife you took in the arm seriously damaged the tracker. It is now barely functioning. I daresay it wouldn't survive a simple splash of water. If anything were to happen to it, it would report you dead whether true or not. Your mentor, Johanna, asks I remind you to use everything to live through the Hunger Games. Please destroy this note after you read it, because this is technically illegal. Beetee'

On the back it said 'so there is no more bloodshed than necessary'. With the blanket blocking my hand from the cameras, I crumpled the note and shoved it in my pocket. As I wrapped Morton in the blanket, I thought about why Beetee would attach the note.

My tracker was going to report me dead if I did so much as clean the wound. _So there is no more bloodshed than necessary_. Did that mean I could live without being the victor? Yes; Beetee had just told me how to accomplish this.

I was going to fake my death.


	14. Part 2 The Arena: Chapter 14

Something yanked at my ankle before the sun rose, causing me to grab the branch next to me before I could fall out of the tree. Someone was pulling at my rope, which I had tied around my ankle with Morton on the other end. I jerked it back my way.

"You broke your promise, Rosalynn!" Morton's voice called up to me. "You tie me up like a dog to kill me in the morning."

Oh, great. He thought I was going to murder him. I lowered myself down from the tree branch. Before my feet hit the ground I glared at him. "After all I've done for you, you call me a traitor." I jumped to the ground and untied the knot keeping him attached to the rope. "There. Go."

But he didn't move. "Why did you try to kill me?"

This was the small statement that made all the stress I had been ignoring these last few days finally break out. "I was saving your life, you ungrateful little toddler!" I exclaimed. I knew it was giving away our position, but I didn't care. "Did you really think my scream only attracted you? There was a big fight, and if I didn't escape with you there would already be a victor by now!"

Morton froze. "Only one other person is here?"

"One of the girls from Beetee's group." I said before continuing, not caring that he didn't deserve my anger. "Don't you get it? The only reason I'm still alive is because I was trying to keep your stupid heart beating. Leading someone who was about to kill you to where the arena killed them, that was me. Bringing you out of the picture before your friends were attacked and brought another down with them, me again. Dragging you halfway across the arena and giving you my blanket, me. Tying you up so you wouldn't run away without a notion of what had happened, all me."

I put my hands on my hips. I waited for him to answer, but instead Morton just sat down. "I'm sorry."

"What did you say?"

"I'm sorry." He said louder. "I didn't realize you were doing all that for me, okay? I just thought you were doing what everyone in the Hunger Games does; tries to save their own skins."

I shrugged, my frustration starting to waver. "I'm part of a new breed of Hunger Games tributes."

He smiled. "Are they all as idiotic as you?"

"Only the ones named Morton."

He laughed. "So now I'm part of this new breed?"

Morton joking helped calm me down enough to realize, that this conversation wasn't right. It was too – normal. We were two of the three remaining contestants in the Hunger Games, which was about the time when a final nightmare would chase the last tributes into a final confrontation. After studying so many Hunger Games, I knew this was the unsettling calm before the final battle. The only way to avoid having this be the finale was to make something interesting happen first, and there was just one good option for me to make this day interesting: die. "We have to separate before the Gamemakers get tired. I have enough supplies to last me until the end. You take the rest of it. Do you see this mark?" I showed him where I had marked my tree with two slashes. "This was my old base. Feel free to use it whenever you want."

I turned to walk away, but before I could Morton grabbed my shoulder, bringing me closer than I had ever been to him before. "Good luck."

I nodded and walked away from him, holding on to the scent of him. It reminded me of the hot kitchen where I would sit on an unused counter and watch the Avoxes cook. Although my legs kept moving, I just wanted them to stop to get one more look at his grey eyes.

I slapped myself. _Stop it, Rosalynn, you have work to do._ It was early in the morning, early enough for me to want both my coat and pants, so maybe I had time to get ready for my post-death survival. First, I went to scavenge any more things from the Es old stash. The other competitors must have had enough, because, although most of the Cornucopia had definitely been rummaged through, in the back I found a small bright blue backpack with a first aid kit, a knife that was short but sharp, and a sleeping bag. I grabbed a water bottle that looked like the one I had been using before and fit it on top of the backpack, hoping it would also make the poisonous water drinkable.

I sensed a clock ticking down the amount of time I had before the Gamemakers made this day more exciting. I hurried back into the woods and followed my marks to a cave I remembered seeing while following the Es, what was it, two days ago? I found where I had marked it and threw the backpack inside (after making sure there weren't any creatures living there).

At this point I knew I was working on borrowed time. Deciding to make a show to keep the Gamemakers at bay, I let my leg drag through a particularly leafy bush and briefly called out in pain, loud enough for the cameras but quiet enough for the arena. I pretended to examine my leg, wincing in pain, and dramatically tried to use it, grabbing a tree to keep from falling. I limped my way to the poisonous river, pretending to drag my leg with the arm that was actually in pain, and focused on keeping it stiff and straight. I finally let myself collapse next to the poisonous river and turned my attention to my real injury.

I pulled back my sleeve to where I had tied up my wound with some fabric cut from the right coat pocket to keep it from scabbing. The blood had dried the cloth to my arm. I tried not to scream as I ripped it off my skin, pulling some hairs with it, and gasped when it was done. I started washing the wound and saw more sparks come out of my arm. Most just fizzed out, but one burned some of my flesh. Before I could help myself, I shrieked. I bit my lip before it lasted too long.

Once it was clean I washed my makeshift bandage and re-wrapped it around my arm. I laid down on my side next to the river. Beetee had better be right about this tracker going to malfunction, because I certainly didn't want to have to die by the Gamemakers.

I heard Morton scream behind me and break into a run.

A cannon sounded across the arena.

* * *

 **Here ends the second part of my three-part story. I really hope you're enjoying it thus far. Fun Fact: this fanfic was inspired years ago when I took a how-long-would-you-survive-the-Hunger-Games quiz for fun and my answer was that I would survive the Hunger Games, but only because my tracker malfunctioned and I was so quiet everyone forgot about me so I emerged from the arena a few days after the Games were over (no joke, that is the quiz's result). That got me wondering; what if that actually happened? Enter Rosalynn Snow.**

 **Let me know your thoughts on this and leave a review! (I can't read your mind, you know ;) )**


	15. Part 3 The Dead: Chapter 15

I quickly shut my eyes as Morton's scream rang in my ears. Although I knew leaving my eyes open would be more realistic, I didn't think I could manage a straight face and vacant expression while looking at Morton (or anyone for that matter). I felt him lean over me and tried not to panic, fearing what would happen if he figured out I wasn't dead, which only made my heart beat harder. Morton grabbed my head. _Limp, be limp._ Maybe my heartbeat was so fast that he didn't recognize it as one, because he didn't seem to notice it, though I felt like even the cameras could hear it. He stroked my still face and moved his fingers down my braid, things he probably had wanted to do for days but couldn't. And now he believed he would never get to do them.

How I wanted to whisper my plan. Every part of my body ached from breathing light enough so my chest wouldn't rise and every part of my mind ached from letting Morton mourn me when my death was faked. _Come on, this is life or death._ I thought as I kept denying myself a deep breath. _Just hold on._

"Rosalynn," I almost jumped when Morton spoke. He said it in a rush, as if pushing all the pressure of my death out of him. He tenderly set my head back down and steadied himself on my shoulder. "Right. Now I have to win this." He stood up, but didn't leave my side. "You see her?" He suddenly yelled at something on the other side of the Cornucopia. "It's just the two of us left!"

I dared a peak. Through my lashes, I could see the outline of the other remaining tribute, looking at my body at Morton's feet. Then she did the last thing I expected; she took a moment to bow her head at me before retreating into the woods without a word, not using this to get at Morton. I decided she was the best type of tribute. She would kill easily but still maintained her dignity and humanity and honored those she respected. Somehow, I had become one of those people. If I didn't want Morton to win, I would have told everyone to bet for her. Again, I wished I wasn't trying to be a corpse so I could call out and thank her.

"You deserve a burial." Morton whispered. "But I can only give it to you in the river."

 _Why must he be so chivalrous?_ I thought as I took in a deep breath while Morton rolled me into the poisonous river. I let myself sink below the surface a few seconds for him to leave and then floated to the surface, gasping for a breath as quietly as possible. I quickly glanced around; not a living thing in sight. I ran for the woods as silently as I could and returned to my cave.

I cleared out the twigs and branches to see it better. It wasn't very big, just six foot deep, five feet wide, and four feet tall. It wasn't much, but it was shelter. Plus it was cozy, and free of crawly roommates.

Looking through my backpack again, I was glad to see the water bottle I had grabbed was two-thirds of the way full with water, which would save me a trip to the river and risk being seen. The first-aid kit was fairly basic and even included a small pouch of burn cream, though there was no allergy cream. The sleeping bag was the perfect size for the cave and appeared to be waterproof. The last thing was the knife, which looked like it could be used to make a decent meal.

I suddenly realized that I never hunted or collected plants this Hunger Games. The past few days I had been solely relying on my food packs, which were now with Morton. I had spent a lot of time at the edible plants training area, and I had studied the Hunger Games for years, so I could probably figure enough out to survive. At least for one day, seeing as the Gamemakers weren't going to be pacified with my death for long; it was much too boring.

I wondered if I should go outside and risk my death being exposed as fake. It wasn't just the remaining tributes that couldn't see me; if the public knew I was alive, I didn't know what would happen. Then I realized I must have passed several cameras after my cannon fired, and there was probably a camera in this cave. Since there hadn't been an announcement regarding my defective tracker, I assumed the Gamemakers were choosing to let my staged death be seen as truth. Maybe Beetee himself was shutting off the cameras near me.

My stomach gurgled. I had to trust Beetee to keep me a secret and quickly collected as many plants, berries, and roots I recognized and ran back to my cave with an armful of them. Still nothing changed in the arena, no announcement or natural disaster to make sure I died. I covered the outside of my cave in moss before one of the tributes could pass by and see me inside.

Once I safely had my hideout covered, I realized I still didn't have any meat. I couldn't risk going out again and hunting a small creature or trying to find some now-dead tribute's supplies, which meant I would need to go without meat. Surely I could last one or two days without it.

I began sorting through my new food storage and felt the weather transition from summer to fall, and then it began to sprinkle outside. I tied my coat up to block the entrance, its waterproofness keeping the cave dry, and then returned to what I had to eat.

I really wanted to grill my plants, but I would suffocate if I made a fire in the cave. So, instead, I ate them plain and washed them down with some of my water. I did feel sick, though, meat-withdrawal I suppose. Being completely honest, I had never gone hungry. Living with President Snow, I never had to wait for food. Ever. My stomach gurgled again, asking for something more substantial. Seriously, was I addicted to meat?

But there would be no meat for me now, so I might as well go to sleep and wait out this storm. I pulled out my sleeping bag and snuggled down in it, my hand gripping my anklet.

I woke up in a cold sweat twice and needed to remind myself where I was. I had no idea what was in my dream, all I remembered was it being incredibly vivid. The rain continued to pour and the cave didn't vary in temperature depending on the season, so I never had any idea what time of day it was or how much time had passed.

Then the rain changed. Instead of water dripping it was more like the hitting of a drum. I thought it was hail at first until I heard a screech of terror. Acid hail?

I peeked around my curtain of moss.

It was raining snakes.


	16. Part 3 The Dead: Chapter 16

As you might have assumed, if I didn't like worms I must also be creeped out by snakes, right? Well let me inform you that you – couldn't be any more right. At first I was paralyzed at the sight of them. Staring at them, I realized these weren't average snakes. For starters, they were all moving in one direction, towards the Cornucopia, and, even though it was dawn and the sun was on its way, all I could see were the green stripes on the snakes' bodies. And the stripes were glowing.

My bones were starting to quake in fright as I clutched the moss. I had to move. Now!

I don't know how I was able to stop staring at the snakes, but a minute later my body gave a great lunge to the back of my cave, still quivering. With my coat and moss obstructing my view outside the cave, I was able to calm myself hiding wrapped up in my sleeping bag. _No snakes in here,_ I reassured myself. _You're safe, they're just here for the tributes._ I recollected my wits and tried to think of what I should do.

Glowing green stripes, they must have been engineered with some radioactive chemical. I had once overheard some Gamemakers making the blueprints for a creature like this to be used in the third Quarter Quell, but abandoned the idea after deciding it would anger the public too much. It looked as though the rebels had found a use for those plans. Though it was interesting they just used it now; radiation poisoning could take between a day to a week or even a month for symptoms to show, depending on how much enters a person's bloodstream, and by the looks of it we would have a victor by this time tomorrow. My guess was the original plan was to use this to kill off a few more tributes, but due to the near-constant excitement it was just being used now to put Morton and the other girl in one area for a final battle.

I stayed in the cave a little longer, letting myself snuggle in the sleeping bag and enjoy a rest while I waited for the next phase of the Hunger Games finale. By the time I sat upright again I could see that the sun was out through the moss, but I also couldn't see its position so I had no idea what time it was, and what that meant for the horrors outside. I realized even if it was the dead of night, those glowing stripes would make sure I always saw the snakes. Thanks, Gamemakers.

Somebody screamed again, further away this time. I dared another peak outside.

The snakes were gone. And, judging by the lack of action in the tree I knew Morton had been sleeping in, so was Morton. I pulled myself together and bravely walked past the tree (supplies were there, but not Morton) and climbed one of the first trees in the forest facing the Cornucopia. From there I could see the snakes weren't gone, but were slithering on the side of the river closer to the trees, leaving Morton and the other tribute some space around the Cornucopia. I could hear them talking from where I stood in the tree.

"We don't have to go on with this. We don't _have_ to kill each other Sharlise." Morton said. I snorted. Her name was Sharlise? Thank goodness Pappy Snow loved roses enough to name me after them, otherwise I could end up with a name like that. Then again, Sharlise wasn't too terrible, for the Captitol. Personal preference I guess.

Sharlise stared at him. "But our parents were leaders of a horrible government and now –"

"I know, I know. But why should we suffer when we are innocent of what happened? It's the same idea the rebels had when they first rebelled against the Hunger Games; it wasn't right that their children had to suffer because of their ancestors. I know the connection's not perfect but –"

"This Hunger Games is the only controversial thing the rebels have done since their takeover." Sharlise muttered.

"And if we refuse to kill each other, they'll be reminded of Katniss, the Mockingjay!" Morton leaned against the Cornucopia. "Yes, what our parents did to the districts is horrible, but two wrongs don't solve anything." He yelled at the trees. "Do you hear me? Our blood being shed will not bring back your loved ones! You saw Rosalynn purposefully die of your stupid poisonous water to save me! I've lost as much as you have!"

I winced at this. Don't be so presumptuous, Morton, the Capitol did more to the districts than the Hunger Games. I hoped the Gamemakers wouldn't take offence at this and kill him on the spot. When I scrutinized his words, I realized he had just declared it to the world his version of my death; I drank the poisonous water so I wouldn't have to kill anyone and he could survive. Well, that certainly made my death more believable. It also made me sound suicidal, which I certainly didn't like, but is it really suicide if you're going to die anyway? Perhaps this version wasn't suicide; it was protecting those I loved. Or rather, him who I loved: Morton.

I nearly lost my balance before this thought could finish crossing my mind. Did I just say I loved Morton? Well, maybe. I certainly saw him as a close friend and I wanted the best for him, so I suppose I did love him, platonically speaking. Perhaps over time I would also love him romantically, but that was dependent on the outcome of this Games.

My whole body tensed, sensing something new coming. Living in a building filled with mute servants and minimal contact with anyone else gave me a way to feel someone's presence before perceiving them with the main five senses.

This could only mean one thing: the Gamemakers were sending the final test of the Hunger Games.

Morton brought it on himself. I didn't know whether I should be proud of his bold speech, or frustrated he reminded the Gamemakers to finish this and appease the public. I looked in the direction of what I sensed and saw a new creature coming from the back of the woods.

I would have expected mountain lions, or giant wolves, not bears. They really were rather lumbering creatures. Nevertheless, in the distance, I could see large, furry, multi-colored animals moving as fast as a lion, bearing a resemblance to a growing elephant, but the fur told me otherwise. I didn't think 'bear' was the right word when describing these mutations, they were too coordinated. 'Mutt' also didn't sound quite right, because that made me picture a dog and these certainly weren't dogs. I mentally decided on 'bear mutt'.

I almost rolled my eyes at myself. There were bear mutts running to the Cornucopia and I was busy trying to find a way to label them.

As they came closer I recognized the fur color on some of them. Did that hold significance? The worst mutations were always more than a deadly animal; they also attacked their victim's mind. The fact that I recognized the colors on some of the bear mutts meant something in their appearance would incapacitate the remaining tributes' minds.

Imminent death was coming for one of the tributes. And for once, I couldn't make sure Morton survived.


	17. Part 3 The Dead: Chapter 17

When Morton and Sharlise heard something running towards them they ran on top of the Cornucopia on opposing sides. At least they both had sense enough to bring a weapon.

The bear mutts were running beneath me now. I had to cling to the tree to keep my balance as they brushed past it and sincerely hoped none would look up towards me. The Gamemakers must have programmed them well; none stopped to look up at me, they all seemed too focused on Morton and Sharlise, knowing their goal was the two remaining tributes. As they easily leapt over the poisonous river, I counted about eight bear mutts. This wasn't as many as the Capitol usually had for the Hunger Games finale, but I suppose there was the time element that put the rebel's Gamemakers on a much more hurried schedule. Besides, one looked deadly enough.

They reached the Cornucopia and the two tributes tried to keep them at bay. The bear mutts were less than an inch shorter than it and could at least put their front legs onto it if given the chance, but Morton and Sharlise showed themselves to have earned their lives thus far and didn't give them that chance. I felt proud of Morton, because up until now the most I had seen him do in the Hunger Games was getting his butt saved by me. I started to wonder what the Gamemakers would do if this became a stalemate, because both the tributes were protecting each other and doing well against the bear mutts. That is, until Sharlise shrieked in terror.

"Mom!" She fell to her knees. "Dad!"

Morton took a closer look at the bear mutts. "Chrysie, June," he gasped.

It took me a second to realize what they were talking about; the bear mutts were made to look like some of the dead tributes and the families of the two survivors. The rebels must have been taking a page from the 74th Hunger Games' book by making the mutts resemble people, specifically those close to the tributes. It worked well then, and was certainly getting the intended emotional reaction now. I wondered if Peeta or Katniss was behind this, or that friend Gale of hers since Katniss and Peeta were considered unstable. I tried to identify them, but from my angle I could only recognize four of them; the three people from Morton's alliance and myself. All people Morton knew well. I squeezed the tree and hoped Morton wouldn't let his emotions overrun his rational mind.

"I – I have to kill you, Morton." Sharlise slowly turned to him. She gripped her knife. I could hear the odd catch in her voice and knew she was crying. "It – it's the only way."

Morton didn't hear her. His eyes were captivated on something that made him freeze. "Rosalynn. Not you, too. Rosalynn!"

Sharlise held her knife out as she walked over to Morton. From my viewpoint I could see her shaking. "We need to end this soon, t–to get them back to normal. So, I have to do this. They n–need me to kill you now."

Morton kneeled and put his weapon down, no longer caring to fight for his life.

"No!" I shouted, then covered my mouth. I was supposed to be dead! How could I be dead if somebody sees me in the tree? I hoped the bear mutts' growling and scratching the ground drowned out any sound I could make.

At the sound of my scream, Morton looked up and his eyes caught were I stood in the tree. I froze, hoping he wouldn't realize I was alive. He turned his head back at the bear mutt impersonating me. "You are not Rosalynn." He stood up and grabbed Sharlise's wrist before she could attack. "I just saw Rosalynn! She is not this mutt, and neither is your family."

"You're seeing things! It's a hallucination!" Now Sharlise was shaking. "Is this the final test, hallucinations and mutations?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. But I do know this," he slashed the closest bear mutt across the face. "Is not my mother." His eyes looked around for any way of escape and found one, judging by the way his face lit up. Then he did the noblest thing of all; he grabbed Sharlise's hand and led her to the edge of the Cornucopia. He crouched to jump when Sharlise pulled her hand away.

"Oh, no. I am not jumping into my death!"

But Morton didn't hear her. He leapt off the Cornucopia and landed behind all the bear mutts, rolling into the river. He remained below the surface except for his nose. On his right side were the radium snakes that couldn't reach him and on his left the bear mutts gave up on him and turned their attentions to Sharlise.

Without the extra person to keep them under the Cornucopia, several of the bear mutts easily helped each other up onto it. Sharlise tried to run by jumping onto the nearest bear mutt and running on their backs, but after two bear mutts she slipped and was soon surrounded by them.

I was suddenly glad they were not mountain lions; cats played with their food before they ate it. In a matter of seconds the twenty-third cannon went off. This was how the rebels decided to prove that they were not the Capitol; they did not make a show of the final death. They gave Sharlise minimal pain, letting her die on the first two swipes of the paws.

Each moment seemed like an hour as I waited for them to declare a winner. It had to be soon. But the bear mutts still devoured Sharlise's flesh and the snakes kept trying to reach Morton. Was the guy in charge of removing them on break?

I was trying to think of what I could do when all the mutations, the bears and the snakes, stopped what they were doing and returned to the forest. Overhead, a helicopter appeared and took up the remains of Sharlise's body. I wondered what they did when they couldn't retrieve my body, perhaps they figured they could leave it in the river.

Morton, upon seeing he was alone, crawled out of the river and laid on the grass next to it. I could see from my position that the river had done something to his skin, making it look chalky. Staring at him, I realized he had stayed in the poisonous water too long and the poison was working its way into his body through his skin. I remembered how quickly the poison killed when it had been drunken, but how quickly would it work if it were absorbed through the skin?

Oh, this was bad. If he didn't get medical attention soon there wouldn't be a victor, so where was the helicopter to get Morton out of here? Was this all a rebel trick, to have everyone die the 76th Hunger Games? If that were the case, then, ironically, the one person everybody wanted dead would have secretly survived: me, Snow's granddaughter.

I made a decision and started climbing down the tree to help Morton. Perhaps I could do something to save him, seeing as the rebels weren't. But turns out I was too hasty, for the moment my feet hit the ground I heard the words I thought I'd never hear since this Hunger Games was established.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Seventy-Sixth Hunger Games – Morton Bodeneth, Johanna's first male tribute!"


	18. Part 3 The Dead: Chapter 18

Of course it's great that Morton got to be the victor and I managed to survive, but we have to beg the question; now what? I was now stuck in a de-activated arena with my only identity being a dead tribute in the final Hunger Games. I pulled some mud out of the bottom of the poisonous river and (after making sure it didn't have any creepy-crawlies) rubbed it through my hair to make it look almost black. I went to the grove of trees and ate all the meat I could stomach and drank all the water I wanted before beginning my journey to the end of the arena, and eventually civilization. Hopefully I would be placed in a hospital until I could figure everything out.

I considered how exactly I would make it to the hospital. I couldn't say "Hello, my name is Rosalynn Snow and I need medical attention." And I couldn't fake an identity because they would soon find out I had lied; which would either lead to the truth or more lies. If only I could have an excuse to not say it, as if I didn't know. But how could I get away with that, unless – I nodded to myself. I would be a mental patient.

I emerged from the arena and looked for any sign of civilization. I noticed a pathway and began following it away from the arena. The path was long and empty, overgrown and littered with hastily swept aside debris from the war. What building would I see first? The Justice Building? Somebody's house? The Training Center? I must be getting close to something, since the grass was becoming less wild and I could see some landscaping. At long last, I saw a person tending to a garden.

I let out a loud moan and stumbled to my knees. The gardener heard me and rushed over to where I was crawling. "Miss? Excuse me, miss?" The gardener moved to help me up, but then thought better of it.

"The path, the path, it holds the key. The one to find it must be me." I giggled shrilly and collapsed.

"Miss! Oh my goodness!" I felt the gardener grab me around my waist and I forced myself to go limp as she half-carried-half-dragged me into the building. "President Paylor! Oh, President Paylor, there was this girl outside, I think she's gone mad."

An authoritative voice answered. "Where did she come from?" The voice became louder as I heard the new President's footsteps drawing nearer.

"She was on the pathway leading to the Hunger Games arenas. Do you think she was on tour and went mad there?"

"I can't tell for certain." A hand touched my hair. I did my best to stay limp as President Paylor rubbed some of the mud between her fingers. She could tell I was trying to cover my true appearance, I knew it, but she didn't say anything. "Put her in my personal hospital room. I want to talk to her when she wakes."

"But she may have lost her mind."

"I'll do what I can. Thank you."

I felt myself being put on a stretcher and carried up one flight of stairs, down three hallways, and through two doorways. I was placed on a bed and the sheets were brought up to my chin. When I was left alone in the room, I stretched out my feet and felt the blankets between my toes, not caring that I was getting them immensely dirty. Ahh. It's the little things that are the important ones. I haven't slept on a bed for a little under a week. I know it makes me sound like a spoiled girl who couldn't bear a few nights without a comfortable bed meanwhile other tributes lasted weeks of survival, but I didn't care, the bed was too nice. I snuggled further down into the mattress and immediately fell asleep.

I don't know how long I slept, but when I woke up it was night. I wandered around as quietly as I could, and found the bathroom, a fresh pair of sheets, a stack of hospital gowns, some medical wraps, and some sleep medicine in the cabinets and closets of the room. I excitedly took a shower and scrubbed a week's worth of dirt, sweat, blood, and tears from my skin and hair, taking care to not further injure my arm. I re-wrapped the wound with the fresh supplies and removed my tribute outfit. After living in it for all those days, I was glad even for a hospital gown. I stripped the sheets that now had dirt and sweat all over them and replaced them with the fresh sheets. I left the dirty clothes and sheets in a pile in the corner before settling down again and taking some sleep medicine, not thinking of how difficult it would be to explain accomplishing all this as a mental patient.

By the time I woke up again it was late afternoon and as soon as I sat upright the Avox collecting the discarded laundry dropped it all and ran out of the room. A minute later I heard the door open again. "Rosalynn?"

It was President Paylor, accompanied by Beetee. "How did you know me?" I scooched farther up the bed to lean on my pillow. Paylor was young, in her thirties, but she did have an air of authority. Beetee looked like he had many sleepless nights since the last I saw him. I winced, realizing those were probably because of me.

Paylor sat at the edge of the bed while Beetee sat in the chair not far from it. "I recognized your outfit. At first I thought I was mistaken, but then I saw a bandage around your arm and felt the mud in your hair. It wasn't a shabby attempt, Miss Snow, but not quite good enough."

"Are you going to execute me?"

"Of course not!" Beetee said. "After destroying the footage of you in the arena after your canon went off, we aren't going to forsake our morals now."

Paylor shook her head. "We overthrew your grandfather to _stop_ the violence, not continue it." She sighed. "I didn't want to have this Hunger Games in the first place, but there was a majority vote for it. The more people who survive, the better. Now, do you have a plan to hide who you are?"

"I hoped to be passed for a mental patient."

"Then I will help you keep that story."

"I'm just glad it was your tracker that malfunctioned." Beetee inputted. "You've been smart enough about it to earn your right to live, even illegally."

"Speaking of which," President Paylor nodded and Beetee handed her an electronic device. "There is a way to find out who you were before you were adopted by Coriolanus Snow." She did some things to it and handed it to me. "This is your file. It will explain how you came into Snow's possession, and who you were before you were Rosalynn Snow."

I took it and they left the room. Here it was, my background. I barely had time to think about what I might find when my fingers opened the file and my eyes sped across the page, instantly memorizing every word of it.

I was born in District 3 to Lucas and Adriana Tapel. They had a son Dennis two years after I was born and while Adriana was pregnant with a third child, Lucas was shot for tampering with the manufactured equipment. Adriana was able to move the family to District 4 in secret when I was four years old and we lived there for three years before being put under arrest.

There was a taping from one of the recorders on the Peacekeepers' uniforms of when they came for us. I clicked on it.

" _Give us one reason not to kill you all here on the spot." A gruff man said._

" _Please, my children –" My mother replied. "You can kill me, but Dennis is only five, and –"_

" _Stand aside, boy." The gruff man said again._

" _Momma!" A little boy's voice called._

" _If you can't do anything to make up for your previous crimes –"_

" _I can predict the victors of the Hunger Games!" A small girl's voice exclaimed. "I've never been wrong. You can use me to bet on the winners. Please, leave my family alone."_

I stopped the recording and let my arms fall in my lap. I had practically given myself up to be a Capitol slave to save my family, and I was just seven years old. I didn't even think I had the courage to do that now. But, thanks to me, my family was still alive, living in District 4. Dennis was now twelve, and my little sister, Isabel, was turning ten in several months. They were doing well; thankfully none of them were hurt during the rebellion, and Adriana managed to help the rebels from home.

My eyes looked at the top of the screen where my file was labeled and I had grip my pillow tightly to keep from gasping. All these years I had made assumptions about why Snow named me the way he did. I wasn't named for his love of roses after all.

My true name was Rosa Lynn Tapel.


	19. Part 3 The Dead: Chapter 19

President Paylor and Beetee didn't tell anyone my secret. I continued my act of insanity and only spoke in poems and pithy sentences, but cooperated with the doctors as they worked to heal my arm. When they found the malfunctioning tracker they attributed it to the rebellion (per President Paylor's suggestion I think), believing the Capitol put it in me to monitor the rebel soldiers. This explanation was good enough for the doctors as they disposed of the tracker and drew some blood from my arm to run it through a DNA testing. I remember hearing some doctors talking about it outside the hospital room.

"Took us a while to find a name for her."

"At first it labelled her as dead, but we knew that couldn't be right."

"Didn't one of the interns finally find it?"

"Yeah, he was a hacker during the rebellion. Anyway, he found it to match with someone the Capitol tried to erase years ago. Someone named Rosa Tapel."

"I wonder what she did to have Snow want to get rid of her identity."

"Well, if she was a rebel soldier –"

"It's not just that, it had been removed seven years ago. This girl is much too young to have been involved with the rebellion back then. Perhaps she was from District 13?"

"That would make sense, if the rest of her family wasn't living in District 4 right now. Adriana Tapel and her children have the same DNA match as Rosa." That was about all I could catch of the conversation before they moved away.

I actually got quite a bit of information overhearing conversations outside my door. One time I overheard some nurses talking about Morton. It seemed as though he was doing well, he was visiting the other victors and trying to find a place to settle. I felt a pang of guilt for letting him mourn a death I faked, and, if I was being honest, I missed him. I missed his understanding, I missed his kind eyes, I missed the smell of heat on him, heck, I even missed his awkward confusion.

Then I realized, there was no reason why he couldn't see me. The Hunger Games were over, and President Paylor wouldn't take back Morton's victory, provided the public didn't know I was once a tribute too. I could show him I was alive, we could continue to grow our friendship, and I could finally be normal. But, if I wanted to tell him I was alive, I had to do it without letting the nurses know my other identity. So, when they said his name again I lifted my head and called "Morton? Morton, are you there?" When the nurses came in and asked me if I was feeling better, I reverted to acting insane. "A silly thing, really, are feelings. Sometimes they can leave a man reeling."

A day later I heard Morton's voice outside my door. "But I can't possibly know who she is; I never had any contact with girls."

"Perhaps she remembers you from the 76th Hunger Games." A nurse replied. "Please, she was only sane when she was saying your name. Perhaps your presence will help her make some recovery. Just a warning, when she's lost her mind she'll speak in riddles. Watch this." She peaked into my room. "Miss, what's your name?"

"Names and faces, names and faces, all in all are in their phases." I hiccupped and rolled over.

"I see. Well, here goes nothing." Morton walked into my room. "Miss, Rosa, is it?"

My head turned to face him. I watched the recognition drain every ounce of color from his face and I winked. Morton grabbed the edge of my bed for support. "Could you leave us alone for a minute? I promise I'll tell you everything that may help her recover." The nurses obliged and shut the door. "Rosalynn! What are you doing here? You're – alive!"

"Whoa, am I alive? You are a genius, Morton!" I sat upright.

"But – how?"

"Your alliance stabbed me in the arm, right where my tracker was. When I cleaned the wound, it malfunctioned and reported me dead before dying itself. After that I just had to survive long enough to escape and pretend to have gone insane to get the proper treatment for this arm." I showed him where there was still gauze wrapped around my arm. "So, how's it going?"

Morton stared at me. "Do they know who you are?"

"Yes; and no." I continued before Morton could interrupt. "They know my first identity, you know the second."

He still didn't understand. "You have two identities?"

"Do the words 'adopted by President Snow' and 'memories erased' ring a bell?"

Morton's face slowly broke into realization. "They found who you were before you were taken by Snow." He said quietly as he sat down in the chair next to my bed. "Did they tell you?"

"No, President Paylor told me in private." I got out the screen with my file on it. "She recognized me from the arena and gave me this file on my past. Morton, I sacrificed myself when I was seven years old to save my family. I told them I could predict the Hunger Games' victors to get the Peacekeepers to let my family live. They're still alive, happily living in District 4."

I handed Morton the screen and he looked through my file. I fiddled with the corner of my bedsheet while I waited for him to finish looking through it. When he finally looked up, his eyes had softened. "I thought I liked you because you would rather die than kill another. Now I know I love you because protecting others is in your nature." He leaned across my bed and kissed me.

My thoughts melted with the kiss. I breathed in his scent, still the smell of heat. _This can happen. We can be together._ I wanted it, but there was something I needed more. "I want to see them."

"Who?"

"My family."

"That shouldn't be too hard, can it? The doctors found them through DNA testing; all we need to do is look them up. How many 'Tapels' can there be in District 4?" He grinned, as if he had just solved all my problems, but when I didn't smile too it faded. "Or is there something I'm missing?"

"Yeah, a little thing called 'erased memories'." I sighed and put the screen away. "I can sense something, a feeling. Comfort, love, and the sensation of home; I guess the Capitol can't hide strong emotions. But when I try to grab for it, it's gone."

"Then there's only one thing to do," Morton said. "We need to find a way to find those memories."


	20. Part 3 The Dead: Chapter 20

Regaining my memories was a long process. The first thing we had to do was find a story for the doctors to understand why I lost seven years' worth of memories, which President Paylor took care of for me. It was pretty close to the truth except for a few things: when the Capitol adopted me to predict the Hunger Games' victors it was as a servant rather than as Snow's granddaughter, and they inserted the tracker in my arm to keep me from running away, which we said the rebels disabled and reported me dead. After President Paylor and I came up with a believable story, I revealed to the doctors that I had been faking my insanity, saying after the Quarter Quell I had run away to disable my tracker and didn't hear that the Hunger Games were ended.

This was enough for the doctors to look into my file and find out how the Capitol stole my memories: by making me remember my family and friends and then numb my brain so it couldn't sense it any more, and after doing this a few months they made it permanent. The recommended treatment for it was giving my brain a light shock until the numbing went away. (Well, the doctors used a lot more technical words explaining how memories were a pattern in the brain, but I mostly understood the light shocking part.)

As I underwent treatment, I decided I wanted to visit my family on Isabel's birthday, since it was the earliest birthday I could be there. I wanted to get her something really nice, seeing as I had missed so many. Morton found Stio and asked him to make my interview dress in a smaller size with Isabel's measurements (which we were able to find with President Paylor's unlimited data).

My memories came back slowly. By the eve of Isabel's birthday, I had a few splotches of memories, most notably the day I came home to learn my father had been shot and running into the water of District 4 with Dennis before school started. The doctors only let me go to see my family if I promised to return as soon as I had spent some time with them.

Morton was holding the child-sized sea foam green dress in its bag complete with dark blue pendant and matching gloves when we met on his train. He had unlimited access to the train for a year, sort of like the Victory Tour, but he didn't have any schedules to visit the Districts or anything. In my opinion, it was President Paylor's way of apologizing for allowing a final Hunger Games to happen.

During the ride we talked about what we wanted to do with our lives now that we were through this Hunger Games mess. After much discussion, we realized wherever we went, we wanted to be near one another. After the past month, we needed each other to recover from all the unexpected changes we've had to live through, for which I was still undergoing treatment. Neither of us wanted to live in the Capitol, or anywhere near the heart of politics. Almost all of the victors had offered Morton a home in their district's Victor's Village, so we finally agreed he would spend the year he had with the train to visit the different districts and see where he liked best. Hopefully life would sort itself out by the time I was done recovering.

After we arrived at District 4 we looked up my family and located their house, just a few blocks away from their Justice Building. While I walked I took in the life, remembering all Annie told me about it. She was right, the smell of fish and salt and sand was everywhere, and I could almost feel my hair getting stiffer as the air moved through it. I caught glimpses of the ocean through breaks in the buildings, and even saw a boy – no older than six years old – run into the waves with nothing but his socks and shoes.

Morton grabbed my hand as we arrived at my family's home. "You ready for this?" He asked as we walked up to the door.

"Yes," I took in a deep breath and knocked.

We waited outside for a few moments before the door slowly opened, revealing a woman in her early to mid-forties. Her hair was the pale blonde color of the sun's rays and her eyes looked like the water itself. She was as tan as Morton was pale and, staring at her, I knew I had inherited most of my appearance from my father. She held the door open a minute longer before speaking. "May I help you?"

"Uh, yeah." I forgot our cover for a second. "We are here to deliver a birthday present for Isabel Tapel."

Adriana opened the door wider. "Aren't you Morton, the victor of the last Huger Games?" He nodded. "Come in." She led us into the main living space. "Yes, this is Isabel Tapel's home. Isabel!" A girl who looked just like Adriana appeared. "These people are here to deliver a present for you."

Morton handed Adriana the bag while Isabel zipped it open. "It's a dress!" She squealed. "Like the dress Rosalynn Snow wore in her interview!"

"Would you like to try it on?" I suggested.

She nodded and took the dress and gloves into a back room to change into it. A boy came downstairs to greet us. "Is Isabel opening her presents now?"

"Just the one these two delivered, Dennis." Adriana turned to us. "You may leave now if you like. I'm sure you have other deliveries to get to."

"No, ma'am." Morton shook his head. "The person who sent us asked we stay to see how it fit."

"Who sent you?"

"She asked us not to say."

We all sat down to wait for Isabel to show us the dress. She skipped in after a little while, grinning from ear to ear. "Look at me! Look at how pretty I am!"

"You look like you're going to a party in that dress." Morton stood up. "Let me show you how to dance at a party." He began teaching her how to dance like we did on the chariot ride.

I scooted closer to Adriana. "He's a really good dancer. We once danced on a chariot." She nodded with a look, as if what she saw didn't match what she knew. "He's going to be travelling along the districts to look for a home. I'd join him, but I'm undergoing treatment to restore my memories. You see, I don't remember anything before I was seven years old. The doctors found out I actually have two identities, one was said to be dead and the other the Capitol tried to erase years ago." I met her eyes. "The one they tried to erase was Rosa Lynn Tapel."

I stopped breathing as the bomb landed. Adriana searched me for anything that might disprove my statement. She grabbed my hands and brought them close to her chest. "After all these years, after hearing nothing, after a rebellion and even watching you die on television, you came back. I always knew it was you, Rosalynn Snow. I always knew you belonged here, not in that arena." Her eyes welled with tears. "Rosa. My Rosa." She grabbed me in a hug.

"Rosa? I know a Rosa, she's my –" Dennis realized who I was. "Rosa!" I wrapped one arm around him. With Morton and Isobel laughing as they happily danced, and me in the arms of my mother and brother, I finally knew home.


	21. Epilogue

Beetee stood in front of me, dressed nicer than I had ever seen him in all my years seeing him on television. "Ready to go?"

I swallowed hard to still the butterflies in my stomach. It was my wedding day, and my cheeks hurt from the uncontrollable smile that I had woken up with this morning.

After I finished my treatment, Morton and I were able to tell a few select people that I was (at one point) Rosalynn Snow: President Paylor and Beetee already knew of course, then we also told my family, Stio, some of the Avoxes, and all the previous Hunger Games survivors. We grew closer to each of the victors, even Enobaria and the ones from District 12, before we finally agreed to settle in District 3. Now, five years later, all of them were attending our wedding, and I had asked Beetee to walk me down the aisle.

I looked down at my dress. It was the same one I wore on the chariot ride with some alterations to make it perfect for my wedding. "Just one moment, Beetee. Isabel, could you help me with my veil?"

She adjusted it on my head so it would stay in better. "And don't forget this," she said, handing me my bouquet.

"Thank you." I gave her a quick hug.

She pushed me towards Beetee. "Don't ruffle your dress."

"You lo-ok gorgeous, Rosa," Martha, my Avox, and now my maid of honor, said. Annie nodded her head emphatically while Johanna refused to say anything, though the smile inching on the corners of her mouth gave her excitement away. I smiled at my bridesmaids; I couldn't imagine anyone better to support me on my wedding day.

"Go on, hurry." Beetee told them. "You're going to go down the aisle any moment now." They dashed out of the room quickly to line up for the processional. Beetee offered me his arm and led me to our position where we were to wait for our cue. "You look lovely, Rosa. Morton couldn't have a more beautiful bride."

I squeezed his arm to calm myself. Now that I had recovered my memories, I could remember both my father and Snow and how they raised me. Though I would never admit it to anyone but Morton, a part of me wished Pappy could be here to approve of my wedding, and I really wished my actual father could give me away. However, at the end of the day it was Beetee who saved me from my Hunger Games, and truly deserved to fulfill the duties they could not.

We began moving and I caught a glimpse of Morton, looking quite dashing in his tuxedo. He was doing well in District 3, it seemed as though his attention to detail made him an ideal electronic programmer, after he was properly trained in it. Once the music changed his face lit up, and as Beetee and I entered the room, he looked brighter than the sun.

We had both come a long way from Capitol kids to Hunger Games survivalists to husband and wife. And now, for the first time that I could remember, I had no doubt where I belonged.

1


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